


Leave The Past Behind

by Laziam (MItCheLlInE)



Category: One Direction, Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, OT5 Friendship, Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, body image issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2018-07-16 16:36:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 44,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7275730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MItCheLlInE/pseuds/Laziam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apart from a failed relationship and a secret that he's not sharing with anyone, Liam likes his orderly life just fine. Zayn hates people like Liam and when a chance encounter throws them together, neither of them are prepared for what follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Dejando atrás el pasado](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11936994) by [tellmeyourlies_ziam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tellmeyourlies_ziam/pseuds/tellmeyourlies_ziam)



> Here is the start of my second effort. Hope you guys like it. Feel free to leave a message with your thoughts.

Liam

“No Louis, it’s the middle of the week and a working day tomorrow,” Liam says, moving his phone to the other ear.

“Come on Liam, don’t be such a bore, live a little. I’m only going to the Pheasant, nothing major. They have a live act on tonight.” 

“You’ve been going to pubs with live acts a lot lately - what’s that all about?"

“Nothing, I just like the atmosphere surrounding live music - you sure you don’t want to join me? It’ll be a blast.” 

“Positive - It’s been a long day and my shirts are waiting to be ironed.”

“Really Liam? Ironing? Trust me; your shirts are still gonna be there when you get back.” Liam can detect a hint of desperation in Louis’ voice, but he remains undeterred.

“Give it a rest already; I'm not going, and that's that.” Liam raises his voice slightly with exasperation.

“Alright then, don’t get too overwhelmed by your domestic excitement. I’ll pop in before I go.”

Liam ends the call, smiling to himself. Louis can be a menace, but he is largely a welcome addition to his life. Liam moved into this apartment block in a leafy London suburb almost two years ago. Most of the other residents are friendly people but not anywhere near his age. Louis approached him in the lift where they got talking about how quiet this neighbourhood is. Since then they have formed a close friendship. 

Quiet is, however, not a term that he can apply to Louis in any way. As an insurance broker, he talks for living which is probably to blame for the fact that he is difficult to shut up. Apart from that his tendency to dish out advice to everyone, whether asked for or not, is occasionally annoying, but mostly Louis has proven to be a good friend.

Yes, Liam is glad that he has found him, especially since John left. Liam’s ex had only been living with him in the posh flat for a couple of months before he snuck out during the night, leaving just a hastily written note on the bedside table. 

Letting out a heartfelt sigh, Liam realises that all this reverie isn’t going to get his work attire into shape. After quickly setting up the ironing board, he starts on the task. Every once in a while he considers giving the shirts to the laundrette but in the end, he always does them himself. Besides, his mother would be horrified if she found out that he was paying for something she spent hours teaching him how to do himself.

Thinking about his mum, his eyes fall on the framed family portrait, and his mind starts to wander yet again. He really misses his parents and two sisters who are still living in his hometown of Wolverhampton. They are his safe haven where he doesn’t have to put on an act and pretend to be someone he isn't. His mum would love nothing more than for him to move back home but he likes it in London and apart from his failed relationship, the city holds mostly good memories for him. 

A knock on the door interrupts his musings.

“Come in Louis…”

“Liam lad, have you changed your mind? It’s not too late to spend the evening with me. Other people would kill for the opportunity you know." Louis breezes in, looking very well groomed for just a few pints in a backstreet pub. 

He is a gorgeous guy with glowing skin that sets off his piercing blue eyes nicely. His brown hair is a sort of controlled mess, and he has curves that he has no right to have. Somehow he squeezed all that into black skinny jeans and an obviously expensive silk shirt. As usual, Liam feels inadequate next to him. 

“I know Lou, but I have things to do here. Why aren’t you going with Natasha?” Liam asks. 

Louis’ girlfriend works with Liam. The pretty brunette fell quickly for his charms when Liam introduced them to each other at the last Christmas party. 

“She's going out with her mates to a makeup party or something. It’s fine - I’ll go by myself, but one day I will make a social creature out of you Payno.” 

“Good luck with that,” Liam laughs.” I promise I will come with you next time to see what all the fuss is about. Who’s the act anyway?” Liam asks, draping his most recently ironed shirt over the back of his sofa.

Louis picks it up, nodding approvingly.” Nice work, I might hire you to do mine.”

Liam takes it off him.” Give me that; you’ll put creases into it and are you gonna tell me about this band that you’re so desperate to see or not?”

“I’m not desperate, and it’s not a band, just a guy with an acoustic guitar. He writes his own stuff apparently. He’s really good - Irish I think,” Louis says with a hint of petulance.“ Anyway, I’ll be on my way then. Next time you’ll come...no excuses.”

“I promise - now have a good evening and tell me all about it tomorrow.” Liam smiles at his friend, giving him a quick pat on the shoulder. 

When the door closes behind Louis, Liam tidies away the board and the shirts. Maybe he should have gone to the pub seeing that he hasn’t been out much since John moved out. They had been happy here for a few months or at least Liam had been. John had asked to move into the flat after they’d been together for only two weeks. At the time it seemed like a good idea even though Liam ended up changing his entire routine to fit in with John’s lifestyle. He spent most of his free time at the gym, where John put him through a rigorous fitness regime to complement the strict diet that he imposed on him. Liam put up with all of that and much more. 

Liam’s family warned him not to forget who he is in the process, but he was so thrilled by the idea that someone wanted to be with him every day that he ignored all the well-meant advice. Not a day goes by when he doesn’t wrack his brain as to what he did to make John leave. The conclusion he comes to every single time is that he was simply out of his league. Liam couldn't have tried any harder to please his then-boyfriend, but it obviously hadn't been enough.

A low rumble in his stomach reminds him that he should conjure up something for dinner, but when he opens the fridge door, he is greeted by a tub of Flora spread and a lonely egg while a sad looking head of lettuce lingers on the bottom shelf. Looks like he will have to order some food in. Pizza sounds good, but he has already ordered three times this week from his local place. If his memory serves him correctly, there should be a leaflet from a new delivery outlet somewhere. He finds it stuffed under the latest copy of his ‘Men’s Health’ magazine. 

PIZZA WORLD - IT WILL BE LOVE AT FIRST BITE

How corny - Liam dials anyway and places his order. Eating all these takeaways is not ideal for his weight but what the hell, he works hard all day. Surely comforting himself with food that he likes isn't such a bad thing?

Surprisingly quickly the doorbell announces the arrival of his dinner. 

“Just come up, it’s the fourth floor… second door on the right,” Liam instructs into the intercom. 

As soon as he opens his front door, a pizza box is being shoved towards him. 

“Liam Payne? Chicken and Mushroom?”

Wow, what a smooth voice. The guy who comes with that voice wears the pizza company’s logo on his grey sweatshirt. His dark hair is styled in a small quiff, and he possesses the most beautiful golden brown eyes Liam has ever seen. In fact, his whole face is simply stunning. Liam is aware that he is staring.

Reaching for the large cardboard box he utters,” Yes...yeah...that’s me...thanks.”

The pizza guy doesn’t move. He looks Liam up and down with a bored expression in those gorgeous eyes. Liam gets the feeling that he is being judged. Why did he have to put on those old joggers and an oversized hoodie? On the other hand, why should it matter? It’s only the delivery guy for fuck's sake. Why should Liam be concerned about what he thinks of him - This is stupid and why is this guy still standing there?

“I have paid over the phone,” Liam says. Then it dawns on him. 

“Oh, a tip..wait...I actually don’t have any cash on me right now. Can I tip you by card?” he asks, realising immediately how idiotic that question is.

Unfortunately so does the gorgeous being in front of him.” Yeah sure, that’s what everyone does.” He rolls his eyes. ”Just say that you don’t want to give me anything, that’s nothing new. Enjoy your food,” he snarls, turning around to leave. 

Liam is scrambling for something to say, that he generally tips quite generously and that he honestly has no money in the house, but the guy walks away before he can form any coherent words. Although Liam can’t swear to it, he thinks that he hears him mumble ‘Hope you choke on it’. 

He shuts the door and puts the box on the kitchen counter. Suddenly he doesn’t feel like eating the pizza anymore; it feels almost as if he has stolen it. What an awkward encounter that was. The guy had offered no courtesy, no smile, just a sense of entitlement for a tip that he absolutely didn’t deserve. 

What a prat. 

Liam decides not to order from there again while simultaneously wondering if pizza delivery people have a particular area in which they operate and what the chances would be of getting the same person twice. He must be going mad. Why would he want to deal with someone that rude again? Liam slumps down onto his sofa to catch the rest of the film he recorded the previous evening, finding that he has to periodically hit the rewind button on his remote because his mind can’t shake the image of a perfect face with mesmerising, golden eyes. 

Zayn

Heavy rock music is coming from the room above and what sounds like a lover’s tiff from the one next door. Zayn sinks his face deeper into his pillow, but the noise is relentless, preventing him from getting back to sleep. Constant commotions are one of the downfalls of living in an innercity hostel. Another one is communal showers, which Zayn suspects he will never get used to. The rooms are small and dingy with just enough space for a single bed, a desk and a wardrobe. As an added insult, Zayn’s particular room features two mould patches which he covers with large Marvel movie posters, but when it gets cold and wet outside, the smell is awful. On the upside, nobody gives a toss about what he gets up to; when he comes and goes or who shares his bed at night. Unlike at home, where he was tolerated rather than wanted. 

A quick check of his phone reveals the time to be 10:22 am. Zayn decides he should get up if only he could get his body to move. Between studying classic English literature at uni and delivering pizza most evenings, he doesn’t get a lot of rest and those thoughtless morons in the surrounding rooms are not helping in the slightest. Keeping his ancient Ford Focus on the road is his priority since he needs it for his job, which is why he resorts to living in this place. Luckily he only has fourteen months left before he finishes his degree and he can move out of this shithole.

“Hey, Zayn, are you awake?” A far too cheerful voice with a distinct Irish lilt shouts from the other side of the door. 

“I am now,” Zayn groans.

“I’ve brought your post.” The blonde guy, who peeps into the room, throws a bunch of letters on Zayn’s blanket. 

“Take them away Niall, there’s a pile on the desk, just dump the new ones on top.”

“Don’t you think you should read them? At least this one, it’s from your bank and says urgent on it.” Niall waves a white envelope in the air.

“I don’t wanna know; they’re always on my case."

“You need to check what they have to say, want me to read it?”

“If you must,” Zayn sighs, knowing that Niall won’t give up on this anyway. The thumping bass from upstairs just got a little louder, and Zayn has the distinct impression that today is not going to be his day. 

Niall skims the letter, then looks at Zayn.” It’s about your overdraft; they want you to go in for a chat. I suggest you go; the last thing you need is for them to take that away.”

Zayn sighs. If this is how it’s going to be today, then he will have to leave the relative comfort of his bed. 

“When did you get so good at responsible adulting, Nialler?" Zayn shakes his head, climbs out from under his blanket and proceeds to put on his jeans and t-shirt.” I’ll go when I get round to it.”

“No you won’t.” Niall gets out his mobile and before Zayn can react he is apparently talking to someone at Zayn’s bank. 

“Hi, my name is Zayn Malik. I’m ringing about your letter….yes, yes I will come in today….one o’clock sounds perfect… see you then.”

“What did you do that for, you ass? You can’t just go and impersonate me; that’s not even legal.” Zayn gesticulates wildly with his hands.

“I can, and I just did, you have a 1 pm appointment,” Niall grins.

“I should cancel our friendship; you do nothing but harass me. Why don’t you piss off back to where you came from.”

“See, that’s what I love about you...you’re an incredibly charming individual. Why are you in such a rotten mood - bad shift?” Niall quips, leaning back in the chair, putting his feet on the desk. He is obviously not leaving until he gets to the bottom of Zayn’s grumpiness. 

“It was ok - as per usual, some dickheads didn’t want to hand over any extra money. One even insisted he had no cash and wanted to tip by card; can you believe that?”

“Maybe it was true, “Niall suggests.” You have to believe what people tell you occasionally. Not everyone is out to screw you over.” 

“My life experiences taught me otherwise. It was a shame, though, the dickhead with no money was quite cute - in a straight-laced and uptight kind of way,” Zayn admits.

“Niall bursts out laughing. ”You should have asked him for an alternative tip then, a kiss and a grope maybe.”

“Yeah, that’s one way to lose my job fast. Speaking of cute people, was your superfan at the gig last night?”

Niall sits up, a conspiratorial look on his face. ”Yep, he was and like I keep telling you; he is not MY fan. I bet that he doesn’t even know a single lyric because all he does is gape at Harry for the entire time. I’m dying to go over and say something to him, but Hazza thinks it’s funny to let him sweat and stare.”

Zayn smiles the first genuine smile of the day. ”I can imagine. That little shit knows exactly how attractive he is. I’m curious about this guy now, next time I’ll come along.”

“I’ll hold you to that. We could do with an extensive drinking session - after the gig of course.” Niall starts sifting through Zayn’s coursework. ”This is heavy stuff mate. I take it you’re not going to your lecture today?”

“Nah, the professor is so boring, and I’m doing just fine without sitting through that snoozefest. The work is not all that difficult for me,” Zayn states.

“Good looking and humble, what a combination.” Niall ducks away from the pillow that comes flying his way. “Luckily I don’t have to do all that to get mega-rich," he laughs.

“Unfortunately we can’t all be budding rock stars. Some of us will have to do actual work to survive,” Zayn sighs.

Niall is pursuing a career in the music industry, and while he is working on that, he gigs in pubs and clubs, performing a mixture of his own songs and popular covers. That keeps him financially afloat, but the hostel is all he can afford as far as accommodation is concerned. Zayn likes his no-nonsense approach to everything and his extremely low bullshit tolerance level. 

“Didn’t know you were into lingerie mate.” A peach coloured camisole dangles from Niall’s finger. “I was sitting on it, soz.”

“It’s Dixie’s; she hasn’t been back to collect it,” Zayn explains.

“So you two are still doing the friends with benefits thing?" Niall asks, carefully draping the delicate item over Zayn’s desk lamp.

Zayn shrugs casually, rooting around in his jacket pocket for his cigarettes. ”Yeah, no biggie. We’re just mates, and that’s it.”

Niall nods, getting up from the chair. “Whatever you say, Zee.”

The relationship that Zayn has with Dixie is complex and simple at the same time. The aspiring young actress lives down the corridor from him. She is in love with a girl who doesn’t return her feelings, so when she needs some comfort, she slips into Zayn’s bed. They have both been deeply disappointed by the people in their lives and see no problem with some mutually enjoyable hookups - without the hassle of an actual relationship. Zayn enjoys her company, hoping she will come across someone who will love her. even if that means she won’t be sneaking into his bed anymore. 

He finally locates his smokes in the inside pocket of his leather jacket. Glancing up at Niall, he sticks one cigarette behind his ear.

“Look, Niall, I know it’s not ideal, but we’re both adults and nobody gets hurt. I’m heading out now - you coming?” 

“Yes, but don’t think I haven’t noticed how you change the subject every time the dubious set up with you and Dixie comes up. You need to get out and date someone you’re actually interested in. Girls are not really your thing, so I don’t know what you think you’re doing.”

It’s not very often that Niall talks this frankly to him about it, and the worst thing is, that he is entirely correct. Dixie gives Zayn some physical warmth but it never reaches his heart, and he tries to convince himself on a daily basis that that’s enough. 

After saying goodbye, he heads out for that dreaded meeting at the bank. He can’t be thinking about dating anyone right now when he is on his way to discuss the dire state of his finances with some know-it-all pen pusher who will probably be thinking about his next luxury holiday while they speak.

Plucking the cigarette from behind his ear, he lights up and goes to face the music.


	2. Chapter 2

Liam

It’s a hectic day at the bank. Liam likes it that way; he feels good when he is in an environment where he knows what he is doing and where there is a routine with few surprises. He gets along well with his colleagues even though they all think that he is a bit boring, but Liam is not bothered. Being a party animal is nowhere on his list of life goals.

There should be enough time to make a coffee before his one o’clock appointment. Discussing financial difficulties with customers is not something that Liam is particularly fond of. Sure, some people are the makers of their own misery but a lot of them just get caught up in the general economic crisis that plagues the country. It’s great when he can help but often he has to deliver bad news, and that is hands down the worst part of his job.

Natasha is in the kitchen, washing her cup. ”Hi Liam, busy today, isn’t it? I’m about to go for lunch, thank god. How was your movie marathon?”

Liam gives her a blank look.

“Last night? Superheroes with Louis?” Natasha adds, handing Liam the coffee jar.

“Oh yes, well you know us...nerds to the core.” Liam smiles uneasily. Lying isn’t his strong suit. Bloody Louis, using him as an alibi and not even telling him. He is starting to wonder what goes on at those live music evenings. Maybe Louis is seeing someone else? On second thought, that makes no sense since he wants Liam to tag along every time. Very puzzling. 

No chance to ponder this further now because someone informs him that his client has arrived. He gives Natasha a small wave and his coffee a final stir before turning the corner to the cubicle where the customer support desk is. Smiling reassuringly, he enters the small office space. 

When he steps through the door, the smile freezes on his lips because in the visitor’s chair sits none other than the pizza guy or to be precise he is lounging on the seat. Legs sprawled out in front of him; he makes no move to get up when Liam extends his slightly trembling hand to welcome him. 

“Hey…,” is all he has to say, totally ignoring Liam’s hand and wearing that same sarcastic smirk that Liam is already familiar with. 

The file on the desk says his name is Zayn Malik. Damn, even that is beautiful. Compose yourself Liam.

“Hello Mr Malik...good of you to come in.”

Liam sits down across from Zayn, nervously fiddling with his tie. ”We have invited you to talk about your overdraft. It seems that you don’t use it as it is intended to be used. We are concerned that you will spiral into significant debt if you don’t adjust your spending.”

He fully intends to stick to protocol and have a friendly but professional chat with the guy who has been occupying his thoughts pretty much non-stop since the previous night, but Zayn’s white t-shirt has a low neckline, showing off perfect collar bones and a large tattoo of red lips with angel wings. So that’s not exactly helping with Liam’s professionalism. Zayn’s face doesn’t give away whether or not he recognises Liam. But then again why would he? He must see loads of customers on his delivery rounds, and Liam is hardly someone who would stick in his mind. 

“If you have any suggestions, I’m all ears,” Zayn says, spreading his legs further apart and Liam finds it difficult to concentrate. This guy is so unnerving, obviously trying and succeeding in making Liam uncomfortable when it should be him who feels that way, considering he is the one with the money problems. 

“Have you thought to ask your parents for assistance?” Liam forces his mind back on the job. 

Zayn is receiving the minimum amount of student finance which must mean that his parents are quite well off. Like so many students, he is probably wasting it away on partying. Plus he works - there should be no reason for him to be in the predicament he is in. Liam is vaguely aware how judgmental and uncharacteristic for him his thoughts are.

"Not an option ... next suggestion." Zayn interrupts his musings, pushing the sleeves of his leather jacket up, revealing heavily tattooed forearms. 

"How about your car? Could you maybe swap to public transport?" Liam asks, trying his hardest not to let Zayn see how much his presence effects Liam's ability to remain objective.

"I need it for work, it's part of the deal." Zayn sits up straight, locking in on Liam's eyes.

He manages to hold his gaze for a few seconds before looking down at the document on the desk. 

"Oh I see, you work at ...um... Pizza World." He pretends not know this information already." That's at least some form of regular income."

Zayn purses his lips and nods a little. ”Yes, it is. We get paid below minimum wage because we’re expected to make up the difference in tips. Did you know that?”

And there it is - Liam can feel the colour rising in his face and he just knows that he is turning a dark shade of red. Still, there is no way of knowing if Zayn figured out who Liam is. He could just be pointing out the tipping issue as a way to explain his problems. 

Liam swallows hard. "No, I am sorry, I didn’t know that. Is there anything else you can think of to change your financial situation?” He is supposed to be helping Zayn, not let him find his own solutions but his throat is dry, and he has to cough repeatedly before he can carry on. 

“I could always sell my body. You think anyone would want me?” Zayn supplies with a suggestive smile on his lips, running his finger up and down the inside of his thigh.

What an absolute tosser.

Liam’s collar suddenly feels much too tight, and he has to run a finger along the inside to loosen it. He might actually be starting to hate the man in front of him. What does Zayn get out of mocking him like this? He should just cut off his extra money supply. That would teach him a lesson. 

“To be honest Mr Malik, I don’t see how I can make the recommendation to let you keep your overdraft facility.” Liam thought saying that would be satisfying, but he was wrong. 

A flicker of vulnerability appears on Zayn’s face, vanishing almost immediately. "Listen, I get my next payment in three days. If I clear the debt straight away, do you think you could give me a break? Or do you want me to beg - on my hands and knees maybe?” 

Is this guy for real? First, he mocks Liam, looks at him in that condescending way of his, makes crude insinuations and then he expects to be given a break?

“You should have thought of that before you've spent all this money that you don’t have.” 

OH GOD - Liam can’t believe how unprofessional he is reacting to Zayn’s jibes. For a few long moments, neither of them says anything.

Then Zayn speaks. “You’re supposed to be on my side, right?” he asks, looking straight past Liam into the distance while clutching his upper right arm with his left hand.

Something in Zayn’s demeanour gets to Liam, and he has possibly lost his marbles when he hears himself say, ”Ok, I will note that you have presented a convincing case for us not to act at this point. Please review your spending habits, otherwise we will have to take action.” 

Zayn breathes a visible sigh of relief, muttering,” Thanks,” before he leaves without acknowledging Liam any further. 

So much for gratitude.

Unable to comprehend what just happened, Liam remains seated at the desk rubbing his forehead. It will be a major task to explain to his boss why he thinks his decision on Mr Malik’s account is justified. He is going to have to stretch the truth, or his superiors will question his capabilities. 

‘Zayn - the name literally melts on Liam’s tongue. What gives him the right to invade his life like this? A feeling of hopelessness overcomes him for a moment. He would never expect someone like that to waste a thought on someone like him. Glancing at his reflection in the glass panel of the cubicle confirms this fact to him without a shadow of a doubt. 

Zayn

The coke can, which he kicks down the road, can strictly speaking not be blamed for anything, but Zayn needs to let off steam. He doesn’t even know why he is feeling like this. After all the bank thing went a lot better than expected. Why then is he not more cheerful? 

At the entrance to the tube station, he walks past a guy with a plastic cup, begging for money. Zayn drops a pound in, because that poor sod is definitely worse off than him and who knows, that could be him in a few months time if he doesn’t find a solution for his financial dilemma soon. 

Hot, stifling air greets him as he enters the underground tunnels, making his way to his platform. Zayn hates taking the tube. He hates it when people press against him, sometimes unintentionally, because there is no room but at other times very much on purpose. Maybe he shouldn’t have opted for a jacket on a day like this, but wearing just a shirt only invites more ‘accidental’’ touches by his fellow commuters. As soon as the doors open, he squeezes into the carriage, which is as usual terribly overcrowded. As the train rattles along, the conversation at the bank keeps replaying in his head. Liam fucking Payne, with his upmarket flat and his well paid job and his nice suit and his soft fucking hands complete with manicured nails - Yes, so he noticed those large hands and the way they nervously played with a pen - Liam fucking Payne, who represents a society that has never done Zayn any favours.

Asking his family for assistance?? What a clueless twat.

What would the respectable Mr Payne say about Zayn being presented with a brand new stepmother when he was ten and being told that he should start looking for a nice Muslim girl when he was sixteen. After he was done telling his family that he doesn’t mind girls but much preferred boys, the atmosphere in the house became unbearable. Zayn started to smoke and got himself inked which led his father to the decision that he should move out as soon as he turned eighteen. 

‘You’re exactly like your mother’ was what he offered as an explanation. Zayn’s mother left the family when he was a small boy, apparently to travel the world and find inner peace. Zayn used to think that he hated her for abandoning him but has since made up his mind that it was just something she had to do. They have met a handful of times, and he receives the odd card, but all in all his mother is not in his life. 

Zayn has been an A* student all through his school career - sadly nobody cares about that. All he ever wanted, was to make it on his own but all the official channels want to involve his family. He couldn’t apply for a bursary because his father earns too much and when he moved to London to get as far away from Bradford as he could, he didn’t get any help with his rent because his father earns too much - In conclusion, the establishment sucks as far as Zayn is concerned. 

His thoughts are disrupted by the buzzing of his phone - it’s a text from Harry.

Fancy coming over? Niall is here, and we’re a man short for an evening of video games and delicious food. H x 

Harry is the one person that throws all of Zayn’s preconceptions about humankind into question. He is forever providing him and Niall with food at his flat. If it weren't for him, the two of them wouldn't be eating on some days. He dresses it up as casual invites, but they know that he does it to help them out. Harry is probably the most generous person Zayn has ever met and also not someone he would usually choose to be his friend. He is the total polar opposite of Zayn - sociable, extroverted, charismatic, glamorous - a people person. Harry approached him one day in the student lounge, wanting to know where he got his tattoos done. Since then Zayn finds himself unable to escape the force of nature that is Harry Styles. 

He changes trains at the next station, letting the lads know that he will be there shortly and picks up some doughnuts on the way to Harry’s. It makes him feel like less of a scrounger. The block of flats is in the newly regenerated docklands area, an up and coming place. It fits Harry’s bohemian style perfectly. His pad is on the sixth floor of the high-rise building, overlooking Canary Wharf. Some people are simply winners in life.

Niall opens the door before Zayn can ring the bell. "Hey, I saw you coming down the street...are those doughnuts? You must have read my mind.” He grabs the bag with the bakery goods, ushering Zayn through to the living room.

“How did you get on? Did they give you any options at the bank? You did go, didn’t you?” Niall looks as if he half expects the answer to be ‘no’. The box of doughnuts is already one short of a full set before they reach the seating area.

"Yes, I went, thanks to your presumptuous meddling and my adviser was the card tipping wanker from last night.” Zayn says, sitting down on the huge sofa.

Niall raises his eyebrows. "Really? So you were on your best behaviour and apologised profusely for giving him grief over the tip?"

"Nope." Zayn squirms a little on his seat. "On the contrary, I might have been slightly aggressive." 

"Good job mate, and now your extra money supply has been terminated, right? You know, if you could just bring yourself to find a tiny amount of charm in the deep dark recesses of your personality, you might get somewhere in life, "Niall scolds, punching Zayn on the shoulder. 

"That's where you're wrong Nialler. You might need the help of such trivial things as charm, but I just kept my finances fully intact with no effort at all." Zayn grins triumphantly.

He is not about to tell the others how close he came to losing his overdraft or how he can’t understand for the life of him what changed Liam’s mind. Liam? Is that how he thinks of him now? Whatever.

"You can be such an arrogant prick." Niall cuts into his thoughts, shoving Zayn off the couch, laughing out loud when his backside lands heavily on the floor. 

"Now now children, let's behave and sit down at the table," Harry shouts from the kitchen. He always likes to point out that studying to be a primary school teacher was an inspired choice, seeing that he has to deal with the antics of his two best friends on a regular basis.

Niall helps Zayn up before they hurry to Harry's large dining table which is covered in platters with various kinds of sandwiches and bowls of crisps.

"Sorry guys, I had no time to cook properly. Uni is getting in the way of my social life - not fair but what can you do." Harry sits down at the table, his long dark curls in a messy bun and casually dressed in jeans and a Rolling Stones shirt.

"We don't mind what it is Hazza. Without you we'd have starved a long time ago," Zayn assures him gratefully.

"Lads, I’m merely trying to introduce you two to healthy food that doesn’t involve anything deep fried or coated in sugar frosting.

"Niall has some news," he says, piling food onto his friends' plates, modestly ignoring Zayn’s praise.

"Yes, I have. Zayn you need to take Saturday night off," Niall beams, putting his hand on Zayn's arm. "Ask me why... go on, ask."

Zayn can't help but smile at the lad's unashamed enthusiasm. "Tell me then," he prompts. 

"I've only gone and got myself a gig at Brennan’s, AND it's a two-hour set," Niall gushes. 

"Is that the big Irish pub on Fleet Street? The one we went to for your birthday?"

Niall nods, flushed with excitement.

"Wow, that is fantastic news." Zayn pulls him into a tight embrace. "I'll make sure I can be there. You so deserve this." 

"Fab, isn't it?" Harry joins in, turning it into a group hug. "I’m obviously going to be your roadie, as always. Who wants a beer to celebrate?"

"Coke for me mate, I'm working tonight," Zayn says, giving Niall a last pat on the back. 

“Any more problems with your car, Zayn? I can help you out if you need me to,” Harry offers, dishing out more food to his guests.

“Yeah, it still overheats and twice refused to start yesterday. I just can’t afford to have it looked at right now and no Harry, you’re doing enough already.” Zayn gets up, starting to clear his dishes off the table, affectionately ruffling Harry’s curls on his way to the kitchen.

"Ok then, I get the drinks, and you guys can set up the Xbox when you're done eating. I'm ready for a succession of crushing defeats. I really don't know why I enjoy gaming with you two so much." Harry saunters off laughing, and Zayn thanks his lucky stars that he can call those two crazy guys his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it :) x


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys I hope you will like this chapter. It gives a little more of an insight into who Zayn and Liam are. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and do let me know what you think. :)

Zayn

Considering to commit a criminal act is not something that Zayn thought he would ever be doing, yet here he is, hypothetically weighing up whether he would be better at fraud or robbery. From his vantage point in his favourite corner of the library, he can see hundreds of books. Surely one of them must contain the answer to his problems. All that knowledge and no way out for him - typical. 

He can see Harry and his mates chatting on the opposite side of the large hall. That is the section of the library, where the people gather, who see university mainly as a means to widen their social circle. Zayn doesn’t dislike them per se, but they grate on his nerves with their loud and often meaningless chatter. Apart from Harry, that is. 

A fond smile spreads over Zayn's face when he sees his friend making his way to where he is sitting. 

“Zaynie, I’ve been watching you for the best part of an hour from over there.” Harry points over his shoulder. ”And all this time you have not typed a single letter nor have you turned a single page of whatever this is.” He lifts one corner of the big reference book and lets it drop back down with a thump. “Are you gonna tell me what’s on your mind?” Harry sits down opposite Zayn, resting his chin on the table and peering up at the worried looking guy across from him. 

“There is nothing on my mind...just a bit tired.” Zayn leans back in his chair, already knowing that Harry won’t rest until he has extracted every piece of information from him.”

He shuts the lid of his laptop, taking a deep breath. "I'm finished Haz. My car is in the garage with a blown head gasket, all 400 pounds worth. They want a down payment up front, but I have already maxed on my overdraft. If I can’t pay the deposit, they will not fix it, and if they don’t fix it, I can’t work. I’m hoping that I can convince my boss to give me a couple of days off until I find a way to get the money. I’m thinking maybe I can sell my phone. My rent is due next week, and my landlord will not negotiate. He says there are plenty of people out there who want my room, which is true. So you see...It’s all shit.” 

“Don’t be stupid, you won’t get anything for your phone. It’s about ten models behind the times, and you need it for your job. I’m sure we can work something out.” Harry gets up, turns his chair around and sits back down, leaning his folded arms on the backrest.

“I haven’t told you the worst part yet,” Zayn admits reluctantly.

“Go on.” Harry looks decidedly worried now.

“It was a panic decision, I should have made a bigger effort to think it through,” Zayn mutters.

Harry puts on his ‘Tell me now or else’ face.

“I took out a payday loan for the repair job, but I can’t pay it back if I want to keep up with my rent - basically, I’m fucked.” Zayn runs his hands over his face.

“A PAYDAY LOAN - are you insane? You have to give them back more than double the amount you borrowed. Why didn’t you talk to me? I could have lent you some cash,” Harry says, looking like he wants to slap some sense into his mate.

Zayn takes both of Harry’s hands into his.” Haz, I do appreciate your kindness, but I can’t accept. Where is it all gonna end? I have over a year left to finish my course. What do I do the next time I’m short? I can’t have you financing me indefinitely. Your mother would not be impressed; I can tell you that for nothing.”

Harry’s mother owns a couple of boutiques in Cheshire, and while she is a lovely lady, Zayn is certain that she doesn’t want to put someone else’s son through uni as well as her own. 

“She loves me, she’d understand,” Harry insists, ”besides she is used to me disappointing her semi-regularly. After all, I chose the path of a teacher instead of having a career in her emporium. You could move in with me for a little while,” he adds.

Zayn smiles warmly at Harry, wondering how he deserves a friend like him.

It would be great if he could take him up on his offer but Zayn needs his space. His own company is enough for him most of the time. As fabulous as Harry is, he talks an awful lot and does massive amounts of entertaining. Zayn, on the other hand, craves peace and quiet. He wants to brood over his books, wants to smoke while he works on his assignments which would be disastrous for Harry’s asthma. No, Zayn must preserve his independence whatever happens. 

“Couldn’t you speak to that adviser at your bank again? He seems to be a reasonable guy,” Harry suggests.

“No Harry, over my dead body will I crawl to him, asking his advice. He already has his opinion about me, plus I told you how much up his own ass he is.” Zayn proceeds to stuff his laptop into his rucksack. That way he doesn’t have to look Harry in the eye when he talks about Liam. Harry is very perceptive and might pick up on the fact that Zayn’s view on Liam is not as clear-cut as he wants people to believe. 

“And you would prefer to have him up your ass instead - am I right?” Harry appears to be amused which earns him a scowl from Zayn.

So he didn’t manage to fool him at all - Fine.

“Shut the fuck up Haz, if you have nothing worthwhile to contribute.

Harry ignores the insult altogether and is now gnawing on the side of his index finger, which means that he is in deep thought.

“Zaynie my darling, I tell you what,” he says eventually. ”You can use my car until yours is back on the road.”

“I can’t accept that,” Zayn says resolutely. ”What if something happens to it? And also, how would you get around?”

“I’m perfectly capable of using public transport, you know. Just take it, drive carefully and I’ll catch you later. The tank should be full enough for your deliveries….oh and it’s parked behind the science block.”

“Harry, haven’t you heard a word I’ve said?” The thought of driving around in Harry’s nearly new Range Rover gives Zayn palpitations.

“I’ve heard you, and I’m choosing to ignore you, my friend.” Harry grins, getting to his feet. “And now, I will rejoin that lot over there to find someone who'll give me a lift.” With that he chucks his keys onto the table and turns to leave, wiggling his fingers in Zayn’s direction. 

Somehow, trying to argue with Harry is never a satisfying thing to do. He spreads his kindness, whether the intended recipient agrees or not. He had hit the nail on the head when he said, that Zayn didn’t do any work whatsoever on his essay, even though he was in the library all afternoon. Zayn’s eyes fell shut more than once, and when he did manage to read something, he couldn’t take it in. His rumbling stomach made matters worse, but he has neither the time nor the money to eat when he should. Niall reminds him on a daily basis that he could always give up his cigarettes, which is utterly unthinkable. 

A glance at his phone shows that it is time to get ready for work, now that he has a vehicle to do his delivery round with. His money problems are not solved, but Harry has yet again managed to avert a disaster. 

Zayn picks up the bunch of keys, smiling at the things that are attached to it, a sparkling H and a rainbow flag with the slogan ‘Kiss me I’m cute’ - oh so very Harry. 

Sighing heavily, he picks up his stuff, returns the books to where he found them and heads for the cafeteria. A couple of energy drinks might make his shift more bearable. He knows that they are no substitute for sleep, however, as a short-term solution they are ok, he tells himself. 

Faced with not enough sleep, little food and an ever growing amount of problems, Zayn isn’t very optimistic about his immediate future. 

Liam

“It’s a nice pub...honestly...you will enjoy it. What else do you have realistically planned for Saturday night? Don’t give me that you want a quiet night in; you’ve been using that excuse too many times.” Louis doesn’t sound as if he can be persuaded to talk about anything else. 

He has been following Liam around the flat for the past twenty minutes, giving him no space whatsoever.

“Louis, can I just tidy my stuff away and can you please sit down somewhere? I said I think about it, didn’t I?” Liam has his arms full of laundry, dropping a few items as he tries to manoeuvre around his friend.

Louis sits down for about ten seconds, then gets up again. ”That’s just it… you promised the last time you would come, and now you’re trying to get out of it. I’m starting to take it personally,” he pouts.

Liam huffs. "That was before you told Natasha the crap about our supposed movie night. You could have at least warned me. I felt like a total moron.”

“She doesn’t like it when I go out alone all the time. I didn’t consider that she might bring it up with you, though,” Louis admits grudgingly.

Liam slams the door of the washing machine shut with maybe a little more aggression than necessary. ”Exactly mate, it’s all the time. Are you sure that there is no other woman involved?”

“I am one hundred percent positive - does that mean you’re coming?” Louis grins, looking hopeful.

“There is something that you’re not telling me, and I’m gonna find out what that is... so yes...but in future at least inform me when you make stuff up," Liam relents. "Now I need to have a think what I'm going to have for dinner."

"No pizza tonight?" Louis asks and Liam's head whips around.

"What? Why would you say that?"

"Judging by the number of pizza boxes in your kitchen, I'd say that's your current food fetish,” Louis quips.

“Yeah you know, I can't be bothered to cook anything when I get home, and pizza is one of the cheapest options." Liam hopes his explanation is convincing. 

There is no need for Louis to know that he doesn't eat most of the pizzas he buys because he desperately needs to watch his weight. He also doesn't need to find out the real reason why Liam keeps ordering from that place since he isn't sure about it himself. 

“I'm counting on you Payno, so don't let me down,” Louis says. " Anyway, I need to get going - Nat is coming round. I have to spend some time with her or else she’ll kick up a fuss about the gig on Saturday. If I don't see you before then, we have to get to the venue for seven. Otherwise, we won't get a good seat.”

Louis is already part way through the door when he turns around. 

“By the way, I’ve told Nat that Saturday night is your idea,” he adds somewhat sheepishly.

“Louis, you are impossible...alright, I'll be ready … see you then.” Liam waves his friend off, shaking his head. 

In the two weeks since Zayn came to the bank, Liam has found it difficult to keep him out of his thoughts, torn between the need to see him again and the fear of being subjected to more of his mockery. Much to his dismay, all of the pizzas were delivered by people who weren’t Zayn. Liam does his best to pretend that this doesn’t bother him. The guy is probably bad news, and he doesn’t need someone like that to make him even more insecure than he already is.

The thing is, he never used to be like this. He wasn’t cocky, but he was quietly confident in himself and his capabilities. After a couple of anxious conversations with friends and family about his sexuality, he felt accepted and happy to be who he is. That was until John came into the picture. That catastrophic relationship knocked him sideways, and he can’t quite figure out how to get himself back on track. About one thing he is sure, though - people like Zayn have no place in his life.

Despite all of this he has yet again ordered from Pizza World. The delivery people now know which flat he lives in, so when the bell rings all he has to do is push the buzzer. 

He opens the door absentmindedly and finds Zayn standing there, holding the pizza and a bottle of Lemonade out to him. 

“I didn’t order a drink,” Liam says, reaching for the cardboard box. 

“It’s today’s special...comes free with your order,” Zayn explains, impatiently shoving the bottle towards Liam.

“No really, I don’t want it. Why don’t you take it home with you.” Liam pushes the freebie away. 

“I’m not a charity case you know… now take this bloody bottle and let me get back to work. You know better than most that I have to earn some cash,” Zayn spits.

So he recognised Liam at the bank after all.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I really don’t like it but if you do…,” Liam offers weakly but reaches for the drink anyway. He doesn’t get a good grip because he is still balancing the pizza box and the next thing he hears is an almighty crash as the bottle drops to the floor and explodes. The lemonade forms a massive puddle on his doorstep. Zayn fails to jump out of the way in time, and the fizzy liquid soaks his legs. 

“Shit man - all you had to do was take the bottle. I have four hours of deliveries left to do and thanks to you I’ll be nice and wet.” 

“I am so sorry - it slipped, please let me give you a towel.” Liam steps aside, gesturing for Zayn to come into the living room. 

Zayn hesitates for a second before entering Liam’s home, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Sit down, I’ll be right back.” Liam puts the pizza into the kitchen and gets a mop and bucket out of the cupboard before grabbing a clean towel from the dryer. 

He hands it to Zayn who is still pointlessly rubbing at the wet patches on his jeans. 

Zayn snatches it from him accompanied by a withering glare. A ‘thank you’ would have been nice, but that is evidently not his style. Liam can’t waste any more time thinking about that since the puddle of lemonade is rapidly advancing towards his new carpet. He manages to clean the bubbling mess quickly, and when he is satisfied that nobody is going to slip outside his front door, he turns back to Zayn. 

“That’s that done, did you…,” Liam’s voice trails off. He puts down his cleaning implements where he stands and takes in the scene in front of him. 

Zayn is slumped in the corner of the sofa, peacefully asleep. Liam can’t drag his eyes away from him, from that perfect face with the delicate nose and the sensual mouth, from the long eyelashes that flutter erratically against his cheek and from the slender figure with the narrow waist. Liam estimates that he could easily encompass that waist with his hands - a thought that makes his heart race painfully in his chest. Considering that this sleeping beauty is also the guy that has been nothing but offensive towards him, this reaction is totally uncalled for. A low moan escapes from Zayn’s lips and Liam’s dick joins his heart in being stupid. Even though he knows it’s probably creepy as hell, he has to fight the overbearing urge to touch Zayn. Thankfully his willpower is not tested any further because the theme tune from ‘Avengers Assemble’ rips through the silence. 

Zayn startles and after a moment of confusion, he fumbles in his pocket for his phone. ”Yes..yes, I’m on my way. Traffic is terrible… yeah….ok...be there in a few.”

“What the hell do you think you’re playing at? Why didn’t you wake me? I’ve lost valuable time when I could have made some money or have you forgotten that I am a financial risk?” Zayn returns his phone to his pocket, glaring at Liam.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking...you looked shattered.” Liam says softer than he means to - a decision he regrets immediately.

“It doesn't matter how shattered I look or feel. I have to do my best not to get fired. In case it escaped your memory, I don’t have a cushy job behind a desk,” Zayn scoffs,” and for fuck's sake stop apologising - it's not attractive.” 

Liam doesn't lose his cool very easily, but Zayn Malik riles him on so many levels.

“Well, I happen to find rude people a massive turn off,” he counters, stepping in front of Zayn.

“That may be true, but I bet you’re willing to make an exception,” Zayn walks around Liam, making sure their shoulders briefly brush against each other. Then, with a final haughty smirk, he is gone.

Liam starts shaking - that guy is so infuriating. What gives him the right to make Liam feel like shit? Why do people take offence to him? Liam spends his life trying to be accommodating to others, but all he ever gets is assholes like John and Zayn putting him down.

He hugs himself, wondering if things would be different if he hadn't let himself go like he did. Rationally thinking he knows that it's not true, but he's not in the mood to be reasonable, and surely a little self-pity is allowed when there's nothing else to comfort him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys
> 
> Just a quick note that this chapter contains references to feeling sick and vomiting. 
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking around :)

Liam

“You’re not going out like that, are you?” Louis asks, taking in Liam’s appearance, his head cocked to the side. 

“Meaning what exactly?” Liam checks his reflection in the mirror next to the door and can't find anything unsuitable about his outfit. Jeans and a red and black plaid shirt - what's wrong with that? 

“Meaning that you should change your shirt, glam yourself up a bit, show off your fabulous body.”

“And what would you know about my body?” 

“Not a lot, that’s what I mean. You might think that tent style fashion is sweeping the nation, but it really isn't. This thing you’re wearing now is at least two sizes too big ...and,” Louis stretches the last words for emphasis,“ it’s buttoned all the way.”

“I hate it when my clothes are tight and sticking to me when it gets hot, ok? If you don't like it, I can always stay here.” Liam is beginning to wish that he never agreed to go to this stupid gig. 

“Don’t be like that,” Louis says, holding both hands up in defence,” I'm only trying to help.”

“Don’t bother - I can dress myself, thank you very much, and if you want to secure your front row table, we need to leave now. The tube is gonna be chocka.” Liam decides to end this conversation because it makes him all sorts of uncomfortable. It’s easy for Louis to talk, looking fabulous in his blue tailored shirt, which matches his eyes, and his tight dress trousers. He couldn’t possibly understand how average Liam feels in comparison.

……….

As expected, the tube was horribly overcrowded, making them arrive at the pub a lot later than they had planned. The situation wasn’t helped by Louis looking into every available shiny surface, fixing his hair and picking invisible lint from his shirt. When they eventually enter the packed venue, all the tables near the front are already occupied. Liam spots a small vacant one to the side of the stage, guiding a protesting Louis to it. 

“If you guard the seats, I’ll go and get the beers,” Liam says, having to raise his voice to make himself heard over the music.

“Get me three,” Louis huffs, clearly annoyed. ”If I have to sit at this shit table, the least I can expect is lots of booze to make it bearable.”

“Lou, we can hear the music just fine from here.”

“That’s so not the point.” Louis wails, his arms raised and his forehead creased.

“Then why don’t you tell me what the hell the point is here?” Liam is starting to feel like a participant in a play with no knowledge of the plot. 

Louis turns his face away from him and leans back in his seat, his arms crossed in front of his chest, indicating that he has no intention to answer this question. 

Fine then - Liam is going to need a drink if he is going to have to put up with more of Louis’ crap. He makes his way to the bar where a sizable queue has already formed, giving him a chance to take in his surroundings in more detail.

The pub has a great vibe, which attracts a large and diverse crowd most nights, but on Saturdays, the place is positively heaving with people looking for a fun night out. Even though Brennan’s is predominantly a drinking venue, a few individuals are trying their hand at step dancing with varying degrees of success while the huge speakers blare out well known Irish songs.

Twenty minutes later and Liam has finally reached the front of the line, deciding that he might be able to extract an explanation from Louis for his bizarre behaviour if he brings a significant amount of alcohol back to the table. It’s a bit of a job to carry the overloaded tray through the crowd, but he makes it without losing too much of the precious liquid. He lines the six pints of Guinness up on the table before retaking his seat next to Louis, who contrary to what he announced earlier, merely sips at his drink. He seems to be distracted by the flurry of activity going on around the stage, where a few people, who belong to the pub, are busy setting up the equipment for the performance. Craning his neck, he is evidently searching for someone or something, but there is no time for Liam to ask because the lights dim and a blonde guy with an acoustic guitar comes onto the stage. Dressed in jeans and a simple white t-shirt, he introduces himself as Niall Horan. His rendition of The Eagles’ ‘Hotel California’ is very impressive. Even though it’s not Liam’s preferred type of music, he enjoys it a lot and he can almost understand why Louis might want to see this guy play repeatedly, except Louis is not paying attention. Instead he is fiddling nervously with his beermat, still continuously scanning the large room.

There has to be a woman involved - nothing else makes sense. Liam is already starting to compose a speech for Louis about why he can’t condone that kind of behaviour, seeing that Natasha is a valued colleague of his. And that’s just how predictable he is. Nice, dependable, slightly stuffy Liam - he will always help you out and provide a shoulder to cry on as long as you are willing to be lectured on the error of your ways. Even as far back as primary school, the other kids called him a goody-two-shoes, and if he is honest with himself, he can’t even argue with that.

Louis is still on his first pint, which is Liam’s excuse for downing the other five. Any attempt at a conversation is smothered by Louis, giving only ‘yeah’, ‘hmm’ and ‘what?’ in reply. If Liam had a pen and paper to hand, he could make a pros and cons list about his friend. At this moment in time the pros would probably shade it - but only just. The alcohol in his system is rapidly taking effect and giggling to himself; he considers that even thinking about a list like that proves the point that Liam Payne is indeed a bore. 

He glances at his mate, who is staring at the stage, his drink now all but forgotten. The bar is currently free of punters, so Liam resolves to reward himself with a few more pints. Armed with a fresh supply of Guinness, he sits out the rest of the show, contemplating the possibility that Louis might just be another person who has discovered that Liam is not worth the effort. But it’s not until the house lights go on, and the music system kicks in, that things get proper weird. 

Louis casually places his hand on top of Liam’s, squeezing it slightly.

“What are you doing?” Liam snaps, snatching back his hand.

“Please, just roll with it, Liam,” Louis urges, putting his head on Liam’s shoulder after shuffling further into his space.

He shakes him off, only for Louis to cup his face between his hands.

“Can I kiss you, Liam?”

“No, you bloody well can’t,” Liam growls. What is wrong with this guy? Or maybe he didn’t hear correctly, but that theory is thrown out the window when Louis opens his mouth again.

“Oh please..no tongues, I promise.”

“I said no, Lou...what the -” Liam’s protest ends when Louis’ lips cover his own. 

He is too stunned and also a little too drunk to react immediately. His befuddled mind, can’t make any sense of what’s happening and the only emerging thought is that the two of them must be a sight to see with Louis desperately pressing their mouths together and Liam staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind? I want answers...like now,” Liam demands when Louis finally lets go of him. 

“He’s here,” is all Louis says, grinning awkwardly, gesturing towards the stage. 

“Who’s where? I’m gonna need a little more information than that.” Liam looks in the general direction in which Louis is pointing but can’t make out who he might be talking about.

“Over there, with Niall Horan. His name is Harry, I’ve heard someone call him that and that’s all I know about him,” Louis supplies, looking a little embarrassed. 

Shit - a guy? Louis comes to these gigs to ogle a guy? Wow. Not that it makes a difference to the overall situation. Louis is still with Nat and Liam still doesn’t approve of all this dishonesty...but a guy? He can confidently say that he didn’t see that one coming. His interest is piqued, and he takes a closer look at the man, who has thrown Louis’ world in such a disarray. This Harry is admittedly very attractive. His chocolate coloured locks cascade onto his shoulders which adds to his overall cool look. Liam marvels at the way he carries off a pink button down shirt with white polka dots. Rather unnecessarily, he also notices that Louis’ object of affection has great legs.

“What do you think? Doesn’t he look heavenly?” Louis is hardly able to conceal his excitement. If this were a cartoon, there definitely would be hearts popping out of his eyes right now.

“It doesn’t matter what I think, you need to …”

“Not now Liam...Niall is coming over to us...oh my god...act casual for Christ’s sake.” Louis is gripping Liam’s arm as if his life depends on it and should probably take his own advice. He does not imagine things, though. Niall Horan is heading straight towards them, addressing Louis with a broad smile.

“Hi, I’m Niall. I believe you’ve been to quite a few of my shows lately...I’m pretty flattered to have such a loyal fan. Shame about the seats tonight… how about you and your friend come and sit with us at the front?” 

Louis jumps up, rubbing his hand across his chest, which is a surefire sign that he is extremely flustered. Things are probably going to get complicated, and Louis isn’t helping himself, so Liam decides to try one last time to make him see sense. 

“We should get going,” he says, throwing Niall an apologetic look.” The live music is finished, and we had plenty to drink.”

“Speak for yourself Payno,” Louis says in an uncharacteristically harsh tone, before turning back to Niall.

“That would be so awesome, thank you so much,” he gushes, pulling Liam up by his sleeve.

Niall seems a friendly guy, and Liam doesn’t want to offend him, so he reluctantly follows the two men to the front table where Harry greets them with a disarming smile.

Louis moves at lightning speed onto the chair next to him, turning towards him, giving him his full attention. That is Louis lost for the evening then. Liam can only slump down onto next available chair as his legs are increasingly unwilling to hold him up. He should probably stop drinking, but Niall is ordering another round and Liam needs something to occupy himself while the others are immersed in an animated conversation. He doesn’t even try to join in, which might be perceived as rude by their new acquaintances but fuck it. The smart thing to do would be to go home, and only some misplaced sense of duty keeps him here, chugging everything that is put in front of him. Abandoning his friend is not something he is prepared to do, even though Louis is blanking him completely. His silvery voice, Harry’s raspy drawl and Niall’s infectious laughter reach Liam as one muffled sound devoid of any meaning. Then suddenly, he hears something that causes his breath to catch in his throat.

“ Hey Zayn, there you are.” 

What? Did Niall say Zayn? Calm down Liam, there must be hundreds of Zayns in London, and there is no reason for his heartbeat to pick up, right? 

Wrong! 

The universe is having a right laugh at his expense this evening. His vision might be impaired by the alcohol, but coming towards them is none other than Zayn Malik. He’d recognise the superior smirk anywhere. Apart from that, Zayn looks drop dead gorgeous in ripped skinny jeans and a sleeveless ‘Stone Roses’ shirt, which reveals that both of his arms are fully covered in body ink. Liam’s first consideration that so many visible tattoos are not a good idea when looking for a job is followed swiftly by the thought, how much he would like to run his fingers over Zayn’s arms, exploring every detail of every image. 

Chill out and go home, he tells himself for the umpteenth time tonight. Instead, he has his eyes firmly fixed on Zayn’s slender fingers, holding a bottle of coke, and as more and more inappropriate images flood his brain, he puts his forehead on the edge of the table, trying to regain some composure. 

When he looks up next, Zayn has arrived, casually nodding a greeting at everyone but not giving any indication that he knows who Liam is. He takes the seat on the other side of Harry, chatting away to Niall. Why can’t the ground just open and swallow Liam whole? Is he supposed to sit here, being practically invisible? From time to time, he thinks he can see Zayn glancing over at him which is probably just his imagination, but he shrinks further into himself anyway, just in case. 

“Zaynie!”

A young woman with striking red hair comes running over to them, plonking herself onto Zayn’s lap. He embraces her with enthusiasm, looking genuinely pleased to see her. This is just great. Now his girlfriend is here as well, adding to Liam’s woes. What he can’t figure out is, why this turn of events would have any effect on him? Why would watching the two of them exchange a tender kiss bother him in any way? No logical reason springs to mind, but in spite of this, the dull ache in his chest won’t go away. 

The girl detaches herself from Zayn’s mouth and waves at Louis and Liam. “Hey, I’m Dixie...it’s lovely to meet you.”

Liam has to admit that her smile is rather endearing; she seems like a nice person. Then again he should maybe pull the plug on trying to read people, given his recent success rate. Even Zayn is proving him wrong this very minute. He apparently reserves his rude hostility for people like Liam, because right now he looks at his girlfriend with warm eyes, tenderly removing a strand of hair from her face.

“Zaynie, where have you been? I tried a few times to come to your room, but your door is always locked,” Dixie pouts, stabbing him playfully in the chest with her finger.

“Sorry babe, I’ve had so much shit going on. My car is knackered, and I had to work double shifts, which means uni work is building up. Never meant to neglect you, though.” Zayn sounds remorseful.

What a weird relationship. She has to knock on his door in the hope that he’s gonna let her in? Oh well, who is Liam to judge? Perhaps he had been too clingy, and John would have stayed if he had been more casual. Or maybe the answer lies in these colourful drinks that have appeared out of nowhere in front of him. They may not even be his, but he gulps them down anyway, shuddering at the burning sensation in his throat. 

“That’s ok sweets...you want me to come round tonight?” Dixie’s voice cuts into Liam’s hazy thoughts. 

“Yeah, I’d like that...should be back in a couple of hours,” Zayn breathes, resting his forehead against hers. 

“Come on then, let’s dance...we haven’t done that in ages.” She leaps to her feet, and the two of them proceed to the dancefloor. 

The couple holds each other tight, swaying and grinding to the sentimental ballads that have replaced the upbeat folk songs. They giggle a lot and at one point Zayn throws his head back, laughing at something she said. It’s all very painful to watch, but Liam can’t wrench his eyes away from the scene. His thoughts and feelings are all over the place. He wants to be the one who makes Zayn Malik laugh. He wants to sway in his arms to cheesy love songs. He wants to be the one who Zayn looks at with that warm glow in his eyes. Liam can’t quite work out why on earth he would be yearning for those things; he doesn’t even like the guy. In the end, he concludes, that the booze is to blame. After all, it’s also the cause of some of his other current problems, such as the spinning room and the rising contents of his stomach, which he can just about keep down by swallowing hard.

“You alright, mate?” 

Liam drags himself away from the cause of his misery to try and find out where the voice is coming from. After blinking a few times, he realises that it belongs to Niall, who is now sitting across from him. 

“You talking to me?” 

“Yes, obviously,” Niall says,” seeing that there is no one else here.”

A quick glance around the table confirms this. Harry and Louis have disappeared, and Liam should possibly be concerned, but he is too wasted to care. 

“Well, you’re wrong then….don’t have any mates.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Jaysus, somebody is feeling rather sorry for himself. You and Louis looked very matey earlier on.”

“You caught that? Did it convince you?” How embarrassing. Liam had kind of hoped that their little show had gone unnoticed.

“No,” Niall laughs, ”that display seemed to be more of a means to an end.”

“Means to an end...yeah...that’s me,” Liam groans. That might be the best description of him yet, he thinks in a rush of self-pity.

“You want me to tell you what else I caught?” Niall asks. 

“Go on… have a feeling you’re gonna tell me regardless.”

“You’ve been staring at Zayn the entire time since he arrived. Want me to introduce you?” Niall is clearly pleased with his powers of observation. 

“No thanks, we’ve met.” 

Niall’s eyebrows shoot up at this revelation. “Really? How so?”

“He delivers my pizza,” Liam says, taking a succession of deep breaths to fight off the worsening nausea. 

Niall leans forward, tapping Liam’s hand. “And do you by any chance also work at his bank?” 

“Can’t tell you...s’confidenshul…” Liam slurs. He is hammered, but his data protection training is apparently not affected. What a joke.

Niall bursts out in a fit of laughter. “What a small world. That explains a hell of a lot, mate. But honestly, you should talk to him. He’s very interested in you.”

“Don’t take the piss...he hates me ...and he has a girlfriend.” That guy is beginning to annoy Liam. Can he not go and pick on someone sober?

“Oh, that?” Niall turns around, nodding his head towards Zayn and Dixie. “That’s not what it looks like.”

“Told you not to take the piss…he -” Liam knows that he is close to losing the battle with his revolting stomach. If he keeps talking, he won’t be able to avoid a mortifying incident.

“I’m not - he bitches about you all the time, and I mean constantly. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk so much about someone he allegedly doesn’t like. He is interested alright. Otherwise, he wouldn’t waste so much breath and energy. Granted, he can be hard work at times, but deep inside, he’s a great guy.” 

Whether or not the singer spouts any more of his bullshit is passing Liam by, as he has now only one goal, and that is to reach the toilet. His desperation grows when he sees that the entrance to the restroom is blocked by a load of enormous, very drunk men. Liam is starting to panic but then he notices a door to the back of the building, which has been opened due to the hot weather.

Not taking any further notice of Niall, he bolts for that exit, which leads to a garden, before he bends over and is violently sick into the nearest flower bed. He mentally apologises to the gardener, who cares for these borders. There he is again - saying sorry - and when there isn’t even a person to say it to. He is going to stop that - as of today, all the Johns and Louis and Zayns of this world can go to hell. 

The cooler air out here makes Liam shiver. He can feel sweat trickle down his back and his hair sticking to his forehead. His throat feels raw, partly from the drinks and partly from the retching. When his head clears a little, he can hear footsteps on the gravel path, stopping right next to him. Did Louis finally remember his existence? A glance to the side reveals, that this was too much to hope for. The ripped jeans and black boots look rather familiar, confirming to him that the universe is not done with dealing him a rotten deal. 

“Have you come to gloat? If so, just get it over with,” he croaks, wishing himself far away from here and from Zayn’s presence.

Before Zayn can say anything, Liam's stomach churns again, sending a second wave of vomit into the plants. When he has nothing else to give, he straightens up and finds that his nemesis is still standing there.

“I thought you might be wanting these,” he says, without the usual sarcasm in his tone.  
Liam chances a look at what Zayn is talking about, finding a bottle of water and some paper towels in his hands. 

Considering the possibility that he might be hallucinating, he hesitates to take the stuff, only for Zayn to move closer. No, everything is as it seems. 

“Thanks,” is all that he is able to formulate, taking the items. He swishes his mouth with the first sip of the water, eagerly gulping down the rest. He didn’t know; that water could taste so wonderful. 

“Are you gonna be ok?” 

“I think so...these really helped," Liam muffles, wiping his face with the towels.

“Coming back in?” Zayn asks, not making eye contact.

“No, I’ve had enough. If you see Louis, could you tell him that I’ve left….if he is interested that is."

“Sure,” Zayn nods, making his way back to the noisy venue. 

Liam stands there for a moment longer. Did that just happen? Did Zayn just speak to him in a civilised manner? Helped him even? 

Never mind, his brain can’t cope with this information right now, and his bed is calling him, so he decides to leave the deep thinking for another day and head home.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again apologies for the wait. I hope you like it. xx

Zayn

Zayn can almost feel Liam’s eyes bore into him as he walks, a little slower than necessary, towards the door to the pub. He is torn between his principle of not giving a fuck about the guy behind him and the temptation to turn around and check that he is ok. Liam - the name suits him, and the infuriating thing is, that it has taken up permanent residency in Zayn’s head. He can’t go anywhere, do anything, without Liam and his fucking puppy dog eyes haunting him. 

Once inside, he has to fight his way through the throng of people, who crowd every inch of the room. Niall is still sitting where he was, joined by a pensive-looking Harry. That Louis lad is nowhere to be seen. 

“Where’s your admirer, Haz?” Zayn asks, grabbing an empty chair from the next table.

“For one thing, he’s not my admirer, and for another, I’ve sent him home,” Harry says, seemingly not in the mood for friendly banter.

“What happened? It looked like you were very much into each other.”

Harry purses his lips, the way he does when he is trying to buy time. “Louis is lovely,” he says eventually. ”He wanted to get my attention by snogging his mate; wanted to show me that he’s into guys.”

“But?”

“But he also told me that he has a girlfriend and that he’s never been with a man.”

“Ok then,” Niall chimes in. ”Did you have your fun with him at least?”

“Do you know me at all, Nialler? I’m not about to take advantage of a guy, who is in the process of figuring out his sexuality.” Harry’s expression is mildly irritated.

But Niall is not deterred that easily. “So you won’t see him again, and you definitely don’t have his number, right?”

Harry takes a scrunched up piece of paper from the table and flicks it at Niall. 

“Fuck off,” he huffs, and those are apparently his final words on the matter. 

“Ha, I knew it, Styles. But I get it; you’re done discussing it for now, which means that we can focus our attention on our resident good Samaritan over here.” Niall turns to Zayn, who is steeling himself for an avalanche of awkward questions and the Irishman doesn’t disappoint.

“Well, Zaynie, turns out that Harry’s wannabe lover is the mate of your number one bank employee. Isn’t that something?”

“Did he tell you that?” Zayn asks. 

“Nope, worked it all out by myself,” Niall grins. “And when I had a sneaky peek out the back door, I saw you providing him with some water in his hour of need; changed your mind about him have you?”

“It was the decent thing to do Ni, nothing more.” Zayn would really rather not discuss Liam right now, but his luck is not in.

“The question is; why don’t you give him a chance? He is hot, single and from what I can tell a decent guy,” Harry muses, probably relieved that Niall’s inquisition has shifted away from him.

“Yeah, decent...and also stuffy, a stickler for the rules...we’d never get on.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Zee,” Niall mocks,” and here is the real question. How did you know that he was out there being sick? You must have been more interested than you thought.”

Zayn throws him a withering dose of side-eye, but Niall is not that easily discouraged.

“I'm just trying to assist you two hapless chaps with your non-existent love lives, and since we’re talking about helping people out; I want to give you this.” He puts some twenty-pound notes on the table, pushing them towards Zayn. 

“Ni, I can’t...” 

“Yes, you can and you will because I’m sick of having to use taxis to cart my equipment around. I want my roadie back, preferably with his motor. It’s cheaper and considerably more convenient.” 

“You don’t have that kind of cash to give away,” Zayn tries again, even though the promise of a functioning car and the loan people off his back is very difficult to ignore. 

Niall leans forward, clasping Zayn's hand across the table. “I’ve made a decent amount here tonight, so do us all a favour and get that old banger of yours fixed. You can’t reject an indefinite loan with zero percent interest. Not even your friend at the bank can do better than that.”

“For the last time, he is not my friend, and don’t think that I can’t smell your involvement in this, Styles.” Zayn looks over to Harry.” You two are the worst, cornering me like this, and on that note, I‘m gonna go...early start for me tomorrow.” Zayn picks up the money, sliding it into his wallet while doing his best not to fond at the other two, who are grinning like a pair of Cheshire cats. With a last exasperated shake of his head, he walks away.

Harry scoots off his chair, following him to the exit, where a gaggle of intoxicated young women greet them with flirtatious looks and an invitation to join them at a house party. Zayn brushes past as quickly as possible, but Harry stops, awarding the girls one of his blinding smiles. 

“Ladies, even though my adulation for you knows no limits, I am not the man for the job. However, in a parallel universe, you would all be on page one of my little black book,” he announces, leaving the girls in a giggling heap.

Christ...how does he do it? It never fails to amaze Zayn how effortlessly this stuff comes to his friend. They walk the rest of the way to the nearby station in silence. At the brightly lit entrance, Zayn turns on the top step and leans against the metal handrail. He gives Harry a questioning look. 

“Spit it out Haz; you didn’t walk with me for the exercise...so what is it?”

Harry puts a hand on Zayn’s shoulder, sincerity in his green eyes. “Don’t push everyone away all the time, Zaynie. Taking chances is what makes life interesting. Maybe you should find out more about him.” 

“I have three great friends in you, Niall and Dix. That’s more than a lot of people can say for themselves, and I know I don’t talk about it much, but I do have the occasional date.” 

A succession of lorries rattling past prevents Harry from answering immediately. When the deafening noise has subsided, he puts a second hand on Zayn’s other shoulder. 

“Friends and casual hook-ups are not the same as having someone who owns your heart. Don’t get me started on whatever the thing is you have going on with Dix, cause I don’t get that at all.”

“Like Nialler says; it’s friends with benefits...you've heard of it?”

“Yeah, I've heard of it, and I can honestly say that I can’t recall a single example where that was a good idea.” The genuine concern in Harry’s voice kills Zayn’s need to get defensive.

“Ok, point taken, but Liam is not that person. He thinks that everything can be solved by working hard and being polite. He judges me when he knows nothing about me or my life.”

“Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you doing the same? You're judging him by his job, his home and by one small incident, where he was most likely telling the truth. We all know that he’s on your mind a lot, so trust your instincts. It’s not a bad thing to like someone who’s not a perfect fit.” Harry plants a fleeting kiss on Zayn’s temple. 

“Sometimes I wonder, whose side you’re on,” Zayn says, grinning at two suited guys, who are whistling at him and Harry, apparently misreading the situation. 

“I’m on the side of love and happiness, and therefore I’m trying to prevent you from letting your contempt for the middle classes get in the way of something good. But for now, I have to go before Niall sends out a search party.” 

With that, Harry turns away, weaving his way through the droves of people rushing into the tunnel. Zayn’s gaze follows him until he is only a tiny pink dot in the crowd. Pushing himself off the rail, Zayn skips down the two fleets of stairs to his platform. The last carriage is almost empty, and he slumps onto a seat next to the door. His fellow passengers are a teenage girl with rainbow coloured hair, sharing a video on her phone with her friend and an old guy who holds the sports pages of his newspaper, but has his eyes closed. 

Zayn follows his example, thinking over his conversation with Harry, who lives a pretty sheltered life, being the only child of a well to do businesswoman and blessed with a magnetic personality. Zayn wonders for a moment whether he ever suffered any kind of rejection. He couldn’t possibly understand why it is safer for Zayn not to let his guard down in a world where he regularly runs into invisible walls just for being Asian and a Muslim and where his own family rejects him for being too white and not straight enough. If the people who should love him unconditionally won’t accept him, what chance does he have with anyone else? 

The next stop is his, thus rescuing him from upsetting himself further. By the time he exits the tunnel and lights a much-needed cigarette; his verdict is, that it is best to disregard Harry’s advice and that he should be ok as long as he downgrades his relationship goals to a level that won’t leave him hurt and broken. 

Inhaling the smoke deeply into his lungs, he makes his way through the small park outside the station, into his street. He likes the grey-scale ambience that night time brings, covering up the harsh reality of poverty that’s so prevalent in this part of the city. The lingering smell of fish, coming from the closed chippy on the corner reminds him that hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast but nothing is open now and there should still be a few packets of crisps somewhere in his room, so no biggie. 

Minutes later he arrives at the hostel where he stubs out his cigarette with his boot and enters the large brick building, dodging a children’s bike abandoned on the steps to the entrance. The usual cocktail of noises, ranging from booming televisions and stereo systems to shouting residents greets him as soon as he passes the heavy front door. Zayn lives on the second floor of the six-storey structure. He hurries along the stark corridors with their pictureless walls and threadbare carpets. Outside his room, he finds Dixie sitting cross-legged, scrolling through her mobile. She looks up from the screen, beaming at him from under her curly fringe. Her complexion is even paler than usual in the cold light of the naked neon strips. 

“Hey sweet cheeks, there you are. I was beginning to give up on you.” She scrambles to her feet, shoving the phone into the back pocket of her jeans. “Can we go inside, please? I want to tell you something amazing.” 

Zayn unlocks his door, giving it a little shove with his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Too loud and too crowded in that place. I wanted to speak to you alone.” Dixie follows him into the room, flopping down on the bed.

Zayn’s eyes travel along the surfaces of his room, eventually locating a bag of ready salted crisps under some comics. He rips it open before making himself comfortable next to the girl. 

“So what’s the big news?” he asks in between crunching on his makeshift dinner. He offers the packet to Dixie, but she declines, scrunching up her nose in distaste.

”Lauren asked me out on a date.” 

“Lauren, as in Lauren from work, the blonde one?” Surprise is written all over Zayn's face.

“Yes, dummy.” Dixie slaps him playfully with the back of her hand. “She just came out with it today after our shift. I still can’t believe it.”

“Why would she suddenly do that? She’s been a right bitch to you up until now.” Zayn tosses the empty crisp packet into his paper bin.

Dixie works at a wine bar when she is not chasing gigs in adverts. Her dream to be an actress in the West End seems to be evaporating with every passing month that she spends in the capital and her efforts to win Lauren’s heart have been equally unsuccessful. 

“Maybe she likes me. Why is that so difficult for you to believe?”

“Don’t twist my words...you know that’s not what I mean. I just think it sounds dodgy after all the cold shoulders she’s given you.”

“People are allowed to change their minds. You could at least pretend to be pleased for me,” Dixie says quietly, fussing with the silver D on her necklace.

“I’m trying to look out for you, Dix. She doesn’t strike me as a nice person is all.”

“Look out for me or yourself? I’m good enough to fuck when you’re out of options. Is that what you’re afraid to lose?” she accuses him, her bottom lip quivering.

Zayn raises his hand slightly only to drop it again in a resigned gesture, confusion clouding his features. 

“Sorry, that was uncalled for, but I just wanted you to be happy for me,” she concedes, wiping her eyes with the cuffs of her oversized jumper. 

“I am, but something about this bothers me.” 

“You're in a foul mood. Niall says you might have met someone?” Dixie straightens up, jutting out her chin.

“Niall needs to keep his big mouth shut.” 

“So have you?”

“No...maybe...I don't know.” 

“Are you gonna tell me about them?” she probes, throwing him a challenging glance.

“Nothing to tell.” Irritation is creeping into Zayn’s voice. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, but he can’t deal with being interrogated twice in one evening. 

Dixie nods slowly, awkwardly getting to her feet.“ Ok, I understand. I thought we were friends and that we trusted each other...seems I got that wrong. Get in touch when you’re feeling a tad less selfish.”

Zayn can’t bring himself to look at her. Instead, he leans back against the wall, studiously inspecting his fingernails.

Dixie pauses briefly, probably waiting for him to say something but only uncomfortable silence fills the room, and the next thing he hears is the soft click of the door. Somehow that makes a bigger statement than slamming it shut could have ever made. 

There was that word again - selfish.

He buries his face in his hands, as the voices from the past echo in his head. 

“Now don’t be so selfish. Mummy needs some space to work things out,” his mother told him when he started to cry before she went on her trip of self - discovery from which she never returned. 

“I didn’t bring you up like this, son. The way you selfishly damage the reputation of this family is a disgrace.” Those words from his father when he shipped him off to London were nothing new or unexpected, but they hurt nonetheless.

He should have a shower, but he can’t muster the energy, so he flicks off the light and crawls under the thin blanket, punching his pillow in frustration. The hollow feeling in his chest refuses to budge as his mind races, making it impossible to get to sleep. He should have handled that conversation with Dixie better, should have been more supportive. All she wanted to do was share her excitement, and he shat all over that. Hopefully, she will give him a chance to make amends. He honestly wants her and Lauren to work out, but his gut feeling tells him that something is off and he stands by that opinion. 

On top of that, Harry’s words keep surfacing among all these other thoughts. ‘Someone who is not a perfect fit’ - that’s the understatement of the century. Maybe he should have at least acknowledged Liam at the pub tonight. Watching him getting totally wasted and everyone pretty much ignoring him bothered Zayn a lot. He could have made more of an effort to overcome his stupid prejudice and talk to him. Bringing him the water was the only saving grace but probably too little too late. He looked so down, so lost. Would it have killed Zayn just to say hello? When it comes down to it, he is just not a good person, even though he doesn’t mean to alienate everyone who he lets himself get close to. 

He throws the blanket off, tears pricking his eyes. No - he is not going to give into them. Crying has never worked for him anyway. He has a tonne of uni work to do in the morning, and he needs to sleep. If only he could get a minute of peace in this godforsaken place. After reaching down to retrieve his duvet, he pulls it over his head, squeezing his eyes shut. It is far too hot for this, but at least it muffles the never-ending noises coming from everywhere. 

His last thought before sleep finally comes, is a promise to himself that he will try and find out who Liam Payne the person really is. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is another chapter surprisingly quickly :) Hopefully you like it x

Liam 

Liam’s phone is buzzing on the kitchen counter for what must be the fourth or fifth time in the last two hours. Unfortunately, he is currently up to his elbows inside his oven as part of his weekly cleaning routine. Chances are that it’s Louis anyway, who he hasn’t spoken to since the gig. Not that Louis didn’t try. It’s been ten days and a constant bombardment of calls, messages and emails but Liam is sticking to his guns. Louis has pissed him off majorly, and it feels quite good to take a stand, refusing to be a pushover. What made matters worse, was a conversation he had with Natasha a couple of days ago. She took him to one side at lunchtime, after he had successfully avoided her all morning. 

“Do you know what’s wrong with Louis?” she asked without preamble, taking his arm and guiding him into one of the conference rooms. “He is acting weird, very absentminded and a lot less argumentative if that makes sense.”

“No, sorry Nat, I haven’t seen him for a while.” Liam hoped he sounded casual.

“Why is that? Have you fallen out with him?” she probed further, smoothing down the skirt of her suit. 

She is a nice girl and didn’t deserve to be deceived like that. On the other hand, he didn’t want to drop Louis in it either. 

“No, no, just busy...you know how it is,” he offered, sorting some leaflets, which someone had left, into a bunch and put them back down on the large table which takes up most of the space in the small room. 

“Liam, you’re not a very good liar.”

Crap, he thought he was doing ok, but she saw right through him.

“Honestly, I don’t know; you have to ask Louis.” Liam held up his palms as an apology. 

“Ok, you’re being loyal. I should have known,” Natasha sighed, a rueful smile on her lips. “We’re going to visit my parents next week anyway. I can have a proper chat with him then.”

Liam had no idea that their relationship was already at that stage. No way could Louis go to meet her mum and dad at this point in time. 

“Erm...it’s Portugal right?” he asked, just for something to say. 

“Yes, my family originates from Porto, but now my parents live in Faro on the south coast. We’ve been looking forward to this trip for ages.”

He hastily excused himself after that; otherwise, he would have let things slip.

Bringing his thoughts back to the here and now, he unties his Batman pinny, peels off his rubber gloves and surveys his handiwork. He did a stellar job in his own humble opinion. His nan always used to say that a clean home is a happy home, but at this moment in time, he would have to disagree with that. Sorry, Nan. Even though the feeling of satisfaction that comes from the gleaming kitchen surfaces is real, actual happiness seems to be rather elusive, because despite what he is trying to tell himself, he misses Louis. Also, his attempts to forget that he’s ever laid eyes on Zayn Malik have been largely unsuccessful. Whether he is at work, out shopping or in his bed, Zayn’s beautiful features follow him everywhere. It’s just not fair …

With a heartfelt sigh, he puts the now neatly folded pinny into one of the drawers when a frenzied wrapping on the front door startles him. Bloody hell, Louis is not letting up it seems; it can only be him out there in the hall. 

“Liam, please talk to me,” he shouts, repeatedly pushing down the handle of the locked door. ”I’m sorry...I know I’m a shit friend. Open up please...you’ve sentenced me without a fair trial. Where’s your sense of justice?” 

And before Liam can think about it, Louis adds in a more reasonable tone,” I’ve got you chocolate as a peace offering...its Cadbury’s…the one you like best.”

This guy is really something else; how can Liam possibly disregard such a passionate plea or the promise of his favourite sweet, even though it’s a shameless bribe. Shaking his head, he unbolts the door and lets in a beaming Louis. 

“Before you start, let me tell you that I don’t want to hear any more of your lies or your half-truths. In future you come clean with me, you don’t use me as an alibi, and you don’t make me your prop for whatever crazy stuff you’re planning. You got that?” Liam takes the bar of chocolate from Louis, dropping it onto the nearest armchair.

“Yes, got it.” Louis lowers his gaze. “I guess I deserved that. I’m aware that I find it difficult to see past my own crap sometimes, but you gotta believe me: I am very sorry, and I missed you as my friend. We’re still friends, aren’t we?” he asks, his voice hopeful.

“Of course we are, you idiot,” Liam pulls him into a hug, ruffling his hair. “So, I’m eager to hear how you’re evening went after the gig. What happened? Where did you go?”

Louis’ face goes crimson, something that Liam has never seen before. He pivots on his heel and begins to pace the room. 

“Nothing happened… I went outside to the car park for a bit..with Harry. He’s a really mesmerising guy, and we just sat in his car. We text and speak every day, but we haven’t met up again.”

“Stop pacing; you’re making me nervous. Come and sit down.” Liam takes a seat on the sofa, patting the place next to him.

Louis reluctantly perches on the edge of the leather couch beside him, bobbing his knee. 

Liam squeezes his arm reassuringly. ”Go on; you said you wanted to talk.”

“He kissed me...like really kissed me...no one has ever kissed me like that. But then, like the twat that I am; I told him about Nat and that I’ve never done anything with a man before.” 

“What did he say?”

“He said that I’m not ready, that I need to sort my shit out.”

“And how did you feel about that?” Liam asks.

Louis turns to face him, “Liam, I wanted him to do more, to touch me everywhere, to put his hands and lips all over my body. I don’t know what’s happening to me.” He jumps up, resuming his pacing. 

“Well, you can kiss goodbye to the notion, that you’re a straight guy,” Liam says matter of factly. 

Louis freezes in a rare display of stunned silence. Then he crosses the room and sits back down next to Liam.”

“Oh my God, maybe you can show me some things?” he grips Liam’s knee.

“Things like….?” Liam is quite sure that he doesn’t actually want to know.

“Like how to do gay things? I’m so out of my depth here,” Louis whines but at least he lets go of the knee. 

“Seriously Tommo? Watch some porn; I can recommend a few websites.”

“I watch porn all the time and this stuff never comes up,” Louis pouts.

“Gay porn, obviously, Louis.” Liam buries his face in his hands. 

“Will you watch it with me?” Louis asks in a small voice while the blood rushes to his face yet again. 

“For Christ’s sake Lou, that’s not how it goes. Why don’t you wait and see how things develop. Harry already knows that you have no experience. Let him show you. It’s not about some technique; it’s about following your feelings,” Liam supplies. “Anyway does this mean that you’re serious about him?”

“Yes, I think so because that’s all I want...to see him again, I mean.” Louis’ words trail off.

Liam takes a minute to deliberate whether or not to interfere but then he just comes out with it. “You know that you have to talk to Nat, don’t you? That trip to Portugal can’t happen for starters.”

Louis nods, dropping his chin to his chest. “Yeah...I have no idea how to break it to her. What am I gonna say?” 

He looks so down and it tugs at Liam’s heartstrings. “You owe it to her, mate. It’s gonna be hard but as long as you’re sure, it will be best for both of you.”

“Thing is, I think I should apologise, but I feel zero regrets. Is that bad?”

“No Lou, bad would be to keep going as you are and lead a double life.” Liam reaches over to the armchair for the chocolate. After ripping it open, he offers half of it to his friend. They polish off the bar in no time, each engrossed in their own thoughts.

“I’ll better go then, think this over and prepare for the big reveal,” Louis says eventually, getting up to leave. 

Liam doesn’t envy him one little bit. It saddens him that their relationship will most likely be over, however, honesty is undoubtedly the best policy in this case.

“Good luck Lou,” he says, pulling him into a sideways hug before seeing him out.

He opens his phone to an invite from a colleague to go out for a couple of drinks but he can’t be bothered. Instead, he makes up his mind to have a few beers and binge watch a box set on Netflix to distract himself. Dinner doesn’t sound appealing after all that chocolate. As he heads for the kitchen, he hears a knock on the door.

“What is it now, Tomlinson,” he mutters under his breath. 

Fully expecting to see Louis, his heart skips a beat when he finds Zayn outside, dressed in his uniform but without his delivery bag. 

“I haven’t ord…” Liam starts after the first shock has subsided, but he is unable to finish his sentence because Zayn’s face turns ashen, his eyes roll into the back of his head and he stumbles sideways. Liam instinctively reaches out to him, managing to catch him before he sinks to the floor. He gathers Zayn’s limp body into his arms, cradling his head to his chest. 

After laying him down carefully, Liam begins to get panicky. What if there is something terribly wrong with him? Should he call for an ambulance? He is relieved to see that Zayn’s chest rises and falls at an even pace, which probably means that he has simply fainted. Liam tries to remember what his mum did when his sister used to pass out because of heavy periods. He recalls something about raising the feet above heart level and cold compresses. 

Luckily, a ragged groan from Zayn signals that medical intervention is unlikely to be necessary. His lids flutter open and he looks at Liam with unfocused eyes. When he recognises where he is, he tries to lift himself off the cushions but has to lie straight back down, letting out another agonised groan.

“What the hell happened?” he muffles, throwing one arm over his face. 

“You fainted. Are you ill?” Liam is still rather concerned.

“I’m fine,” comes from underneath the sleeve of Zayn’s Pizza World jumper. Then he suddenly removes his arm and makes full eye contact.

“Did you carry me?” he asks, sitting up a little.

“No, I dragged you by your hair,” Liam huffs, “of course I carried you. Next time I can leave you in the corridor, though, if that’s more your thing. Anything else you wanna complain about while you’re at it?” Anger is bubbling up in Liam. Gratitude really seems to be an alien concept to Zayn.

“I’m not complaining...just sucks that I wasn’t conscious for that.”

Why is he saying that? Was he hoping to witness Liam struggle under his weight? Well, he would have been disappointed, although he was heavier than his slight frame suggests. 

Right now, he has his eyes closed again, pressing a fist down on his stomach. This gesture gives Liam an idea about what might be the cause of Zayn’s collapse and his resentment evaporates as fast as it appeared. 

“When did you last have something to eat?” he asks.

Zayn shrugs in response, keeping his eyes closed.

“You don’t eat regularly, do you?” Liam persists.

“What are you... my mother?” Zayn spits, trying and failing again to get into a sitting position. “I’ve had a granola bar this morning, ok?”

Liam sits down in the armchair, facing his guest.

“Zayn...can I call you Zayn?” It dawns on him all of a sudden that he has never addressed him by his first name before. 

Zayn chuckles a little. “Waking up twice in your flat is a good enough basis for first-name terms, I reckon.”

Liam leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re messing with your health.” 

“Sometimes the options are food in my stomach or petrol in my car. That’s just how it is.” Zayn waves a dismissive hand in the air. 

Liam decides not to lecture him on how much of a no-brainer that is. Instead, he leaves his seat, looking down on Zayn.

“Give me a minute, I’ll make you something to eat.” He smiles faintly and leaves the room quickly, in case Zayn wants to object. 

He chooses a chicken soup from the extensive collection of tins his mum supplies him with in case of emergency and heats it up in the microwave. That’s not going to be enough, though, so he butters a slice of bread and pours a glass of orange juice, arranges it all on a tray and carries it through to Zayn. 

“Here, a warm meal will make you feel better.”

“Did you know that the body doesn’t care if it gets hot food because it warms or cools everything to body temperature?” Zayn swings his legs off the settee, sitting up fully, balancing the tray on his lap.

“Just eat...you can carry on bitching when you’re done,” Liam says, handing Zayn a spoon. 

“I wasn’t...” 

“Eat the fucking soup,” Liam interrupts sharply, still standing in front of Zayn. 

“Ok.” 

Ok? Just like that?

Zayn breaks off a piece of bread and dunks it into the steaming liquid before sliding it between his lips. The sight affects Liam more than it should. 

“I’ll leave you to it then," he mumbles, raking one hand through his hair, not sure what to do next. 

“Can you sit with me?” Zayn asks between spoonfuls of soup.

Seems he prefers not to eat on his own and Liam needs to ensure that he finishes his food, so he sits back down. They remain like that for a couple of minutes, silence hanging between them but not in an uncomfortable way. Liam can’t suppress a smile as he watches the colour return to Zayn’s face. He may or may not be aware that Liam is following his every move, but he licks a droplet of soup off the edge of the spoon with the tip of his tongue. This delicious image immediately files itself away in Liam’s head for future ‘wanking over Zayn’ occasions. He really needs to break the spell if he wants to keep the tingling in his groin under control. 

“I want to thank you again for the water the other day. You must think I’m a right wimp, puking like that.” Why is he giving Zayn ammunition to take the piss and why is self-deprecation such a thing with him nowadays? His stomach churns as he waits for a reply.

“Nah, I can’t hold my liquor either,” Zayn admits, tipping back the last of the orange juice. “Don’t worry bout it. I gave you water; you gave me soup - we’re quits.”

So he takes every chance to mock Liam, but when he is presented with a golden opportunity, he doesn’t take it. Understanding Zayn Malik is not an easy feat. 

“Why did you come here, anyway?” Liam asks nonchalantly when this is actually the question he most wants the answer to. 

Zayn puts the tray to one side, angling a folded leaflet out of his pocket. 

“To give you these vouchers.” He hands the glossy flyer over to Liam. “Totally forgot the last time I was here and you never place an order anymore so…,” he says quickly, busying himself with straightening the dishes on the tray. 

If Liam didn’t think it impossible, he would say that Zayn was flustered, the way he aimlessly lines up the glass and the bowl. For reasons unknown, he is lying and Liam is dying to know why. He decides to let it slide, though, because pointing out that the explanation is less than believable might ruin the small bit of progress they have made with each other.

“I’m gonna get going.” Zayn abandons the dishes, pushing himself up off the settee.

“You really shouldn’t drive; can’t your girlfriend pick you up?”

“She could if I had one.”

Another lie but never mind. Liam doesn’t fancy hearing about her anyway. 

“I could drive you,” he suggests, having no hope that he will take him up on his offer. 

“It’s alright; work is not far from here. I’m gonna leave my car in their car park as usual...there’s no room where I live.” Zayn goes to open the door, turning back towards Liam. “Thank you, Liam; I’ll see you around.”

Listening to him saying his name makes Liam’s heart do a little flutter. Words like ‘come back any time’ and ‘ask if you need anything’ want to escape from his lips, but in the end, all he says is “Take care of yourself, Zayn.”

He returns to the sofa, unfolding and scanning the advertisement, which Zayn was so determined he should have. He reads about daily specials and two for one deals until he gets to the end where his suspicion that Zayn was not telling the truth is confirmed. The offers are more than three months out of date, which must mean, that Zayn had some other reason to visit. 

He is by far the most intriguing guy Liam has ever met and that has nothing to do with his stunning beauty but with the many layers to his personality. There is aggressive Zayn, who’s sarcastic mockery cuts right into Liam’s soul, petulant Zayn who’s contentiousness is annoying and endearing in equal measure and vulnerable Zayn who causes Liam to make completely unprofessional decisions in his job. But somewhere among all those personas is a Zayn who shows kindness and this is the one Liam wants to concentrate on. If he was thinking rationally, he would advise himself to move on and not get hung up on on a uni student, who has a girlfriend and even if he hadn't, would not want to waste his time with him. 

Liam folds the leaflet absentmindedly when he notices something poking him in the thigh. He reaches under his leg and discovers a silver Zippo, beautifully engraved with ZM. It must have fallen from Zayn’s pocket when he pulled out the vouchers. Liam skates his finger over the letters before putting the lighter against his lips. Since this is most likely the only time he will be kissing anything that belongs to Zayn, he ignores the fact that this might be borderline creepy. 

Placing the Zippo into his briefcase, he resolves to ring its owner from the bank tomorrow and ask him to come in to pick it up. Fate has given him another chance to see Zayn, but which version will show up is anyone’s guess. 

Hours later, when he is still tossing and turning in his bed, unable to stop today’s encounter with Zayn from running on a loop in his mind, he comes up with a different idea. This new plan scares him but he is determined to go ahead because the most that can happen is the total humiliation of Liam James Payne which would hardly stop the world from turning.


	7. Chapter 7

Zayn

Harry is clearly suffering some kind of crises because as long as Zayn has known him, his kitchen has only looked like this on a handful of occasions. The usually cosy and orderly space currently resembles a battlefield. A trail of flour covers the floor, pots and cutlery caked in dough are piled into the sink, and every surface is littered with rubbish of some description.

Zayn is sat at the table, next to his friend, watching him paint his nails a depressing shade of black. They haven't said much since he arrived and Zayn feels that enough is enough. 

“Gonna tell me what’s getting you down?” 

“What makes you say that?” Harry looks up mid-brushstroke, visibly on edge. 

“Haz, you've been stress baking like no tomorrow and your kitchen is about to grow an ecosystem of its own...something’s up.”

Harry sighs heavily, tightening the top of the polish bottle. 

“Louis hasn’t returned any of my messages since yesterday afternoon.”

“That’s not even twenty-four hours ago; aren’t you overreacting a bit?” Zayn passes his friend the top coat. He has done this enough times to know the steps involved in Harry’s manicure routine. 

“No, as pathetic as it may sound; since that night at the pub, we haven’t gone for more than six or seven hours without contact. He ignores my texts and doesn’t answer my calls when he normally begs me to meet up. Don't you think that's strange?”

“Dunno...maybe he’s playing you at your own game...hard to get, that is.”

Harry applies the clear coat to the last nail before waving his fingers in jazz and fashion, hurrying the drying process along. 

“Or maybe, he’s decided that he doesn’t want to lose what he has with his girlfriend or that he doesn’t like me as much as he thought he did.” Holding his hands out in front him, he surveys his nails in great detail. “Anyway, I thought Niall was coming with you?”

“He was, but he had a sudden flash of inspiration for his latest bunch of songs, so he wanted to strike while the iron is hot,” Zayn tells him, bringing the conversation straight back to Harry’s problem by adding,” You could always go and see Louis; talk to him in person.”

“I don’t know where he lives or works and besides; if he wanted to talk to me, he would,” Harry says, jutting out his bottom lip in a pout.

“I think you’re being a bit pessimistic and I’m fairly sure that Louis mentioned something about living in the same building as Liam, so do you want me to ask him?” Zayn scrapes his chair towards Harry’s.

“No babe, I can’t let you do that. I might be hurt and angry with myself but under no circumstances do I want him to know that.” Harry leans back in his seat, shaking his head miserably.

“Alright then,” Zayn pulls him into a quick hug, wishing he could think of something comforting to say.

“Hang on,” Harry scrunches his forehead. “Does your offer mean that you’re actually talking to Liam?”

“Not exactly; I went to his place with a plan, but then I kinda fucked it up by passing out in front of his door.” Zayn rolls his eyes as he recalls the incident.

“Shit, Zaynie, you need to get out of this ‘eating is overrated’ mindset. I take my eye off the ball for one second, and you keel over.” Harry squeezes Zayn’s neck affectionately. “Luckily, my stress baking lead to all those goodies over there.” He gestures over his shoulder to a large cardboard box on the counter. “I’ll bring it round later for you and Nialler to share.”

“You’re a saint, Hazza,” Zayn states, his voice completely genuine.

Harry just smiles. “Well, dish the goss then. What did he say? Any progress in relations to report?”

“He carried me inside and gave me a wholesome snack...and that’s sadly all that’s happened.”

“That’s great, though; isn’t it? He must like you; it’s a breakthrough.” 

“Uh-uh...he would do that for anyone. He’s just that sort of guy.” Zayn insists.

“Yes, but what kind of vibe are you getting from him? How does he act around you? Come on love...what does your radar tell you?” 

“Not a thing...there are moments when I think I can see something in his eyes, but then it's gone, and he’s back to being mister nice and bland. The biggest tragedy is that the only time he touches me is the time I’m comatose. How is that fair?”

Harry gives him one of his benevolent smiles. “Or you could just take the initiative.”

“I never make the first move...it’s never been necessary.” Zayn looks at him as if he had just made the most ridiculous suggestion ever.

“Guess we are both victims of our extreme stubbornness then.” Harry gets up, carelessly chucking the bottles of varnish into a drawer. “I don’t suppose you feel like getting pissed?”

“Would love to, but I have a shedload of uni stuff to do later and work at eight.”

“In that case, we will reach for the Ben and Jerry’s and watch a soppy movie...you in?” Harry rummages in the freezer, surfacing with a large tub of cookie dough ice-cream. 

Zayn nods, already on his way to grab two spoons. He probably will have to sit through a film that he won’t particularly like, but he enjoys cuddling on the sofa with his best friend and besides it will give him a chance to think about the possibility that Liam could buy his first take out pizza in a long time tonight. 

He has sweet-talked all of the operators into letting him know as soon as an order from Liam Payne comes in - He is ready. 

*****

Liam

Zayn hadn’t been kidding when he said that there was no room to park where he lives. Liam had to leave his car a fair way away in a little side street and is now making his way to the address on the piece of paper in his hand. The air is thick with humidity, and he regrets his choice not to get changed out of his suit and tie first, but to go and see Zayn straight from work instead. Surely it can’t be much further? Most of the houses have no numbers and Liam is contemplating to go into one of the shops and ask, when he finds himself in front of a massive building with the number 143 painted on the wall next to the open door. A weathered sign informs him that this address belongs to a hostel and a pretty run down one at that. When he tried to imagine where Zayn lives, this option never occurred to him at all. He hesitates for a moment, then climbs the few steps to the entrance. The first thing he sees, when he walks into the hall is a table to the side with at least thirty or forty letters piled on top of it. Liam scans the labels, and it turns out that all that post belongs to different people. It’s a miracle that anyone in this place ever gets any mail at all. 

Walking down the first corridor and past endless doors with no names, it dawns on him that he actually has no idea where to start looking for Zayn’s place. This might just be more difficult than originally anticipated, not to mention unethical since it is very much frowned upon to visit bank customers in their homes, especially those who you are ridiculously attracted to. A middle-aged man, dressed in clothes that have seen better days, approaches from the other end of the hallway and Liam resolves to ask him. Maybe he knows Zayn.

“Excuse me mate, sorry to trouble you, but do you know where Zayn Malik lives?”

The guy doesn’t even bother to look up as he shuffles past him, muttering,” No idea.” 

Liam decides to have another go and knocks on a random door. It is ripped open by a young woman, who has a small girl clinging to her leg. 

“Yes?” she asks impatiently.

“Hello, I’m just wondering if you happen to know where Zayn Malik lives?” Liam displays what he reckons is his most charming smile.

The woman doesn’t seem to be impressed, though. “Who wants to know?” she barks.

Encouraged by that response, he continues,” I’m from his bank. I want -” 

His explanation is cut short by the door slamming into his face. That was apparently not the thing to say. He is beginning to think that this is a terrible idea when he spots a vaguely familiar figure walking towards him. The girl comes closer, and there is no doubt that Liam is about to encounter Zayn’s girlfriend, but before he can mull over how he feels about that, she takes her headphones out, waving at him. 

“Don’t I know you? From Niall’s gig the other night?” She looks at him with such an open and friendly expression that he almost feels bad for wishing that she wasn’t here where Zayn lives and all that that implies.

“Um...I’m not sure...I was pretty wasted,” he lies.

“Yep, I remember; you were there with your friend, the one who was crushing on Harry. What brings you to this dump?”

“I’m here to see Zayn; he forgot something at my flat. Would you know where I can find him?” 

She cocks her head to one side, studying him for a moment.

“Ooh...I get it now...right...his room is on the floor above. You can’t miss it; it’s the door with a sign saying ‘Genius’, spelt out in chemical elements,” she says, giving him a knowing look before adding,” Gotta run now...have fun.” 

Liam watches her disappear towards the exit. What a strange girl.

He finds Zayn’s room without any further complications, but now that stands in front of it, he can think of so many reasons why he should leave. What was he thinking coming here anyway? What if this will wreck the shaky truce that’s between them? It’s an invasion of privacy is what it is; good job Liam.

‘You can do this’, he tries to reassure himself. Breathing in deeply, he tentatively taps on the door. Soft footsteps can be heard from inside, before it swings open, revealing Zayn, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. For a second, they just stare at each other. Liam is completely captivated by some water dripping from Zayn’s fringe onto his chest and running down his body until it disappears into the towel. Here is the personification of his wet dreams standing in front of him and there is absolutely nothing he can do about the heat rising his cheeks. 

Zayn opens the door wider to let him in, a small quirk on his lips.

“Come on in,” he says, sweeping the dripping strand of hair back with his fingers,” I didn’t know the bank does house calls now. What’s my crime this time?”

It had never even occurred to Liam that his visit could alarm Zayn. “No, it’s nothing like that; I only came to bring you this,” he assures him, pulling the Zippo out of his suit pocket.

Zayn’s face breaks into a heart-stopping smile, which causes Liam’s pulse to accelerate dramatically. His tie seems hell-bent on choking him, reminding him once again that he shouldn’t have come here in his work clothes.

“Wow, that’s sick...I’ve been looking for this,” Zayn beams.

“No problem,” Liam replies, aiming for nonchalance. “I thought it might be a present.”

“And who do you think would give me a present like this? My family doesn’t think enough of me to care, Niall is as broke as I am and Harry would rather cut off his right arm than give me anything that encourages me to smoke. I bought it for myself.” That was most likely meant to sound flippant, but Liam doesn’t miss the touch of sadness colouring Zayn’s words.

“I don’t know, your girlfriend maybe,” Liam ventures.

“I still don’t have one, but if we’re gonna have a full blown heart to heart, then let me put some clothes on. I feel a tad underdressed.” Zayn grins, pointing casually to Liam’s suit.

Just as the heat in Liam’s face has started to subside a little, it returns with a vengeance. 

“Oh..um..I...I’ll look away then,” he stammers, turning his back to Zayn.

Get a grip Liam, he chides himself, and stop acting like an infatuated teenager.

While Zayn is getting dressed behind him, he glances around the room, taking in the various Marvel posters on the walls and the books that are present everywhere. To say that he is surprised when he finds out that every single one of those books was written by one of England’s greatest poets is a vast understatement. He had Zayn down for an art or media student; seems like he got that spectacularly wrong. 

“Ok, it’s safe,” Zayn announces. When he turns around, Liam finds him in black jeans and t-shirt. Shit, he is gorgeous.

“Wanna sit?” Zayn gestures to the bed. “Unfortunately I can’t offer you a coffee or anything.”

“That’s fine.” Liam smiles, inspecting the rumpled bedding. So, the girl passed him in the hallway, Zayn very recently had a shower and the bed is a mess. It really isn’t that difficult to put the pieces of this particular puzzle together and yet; Zayn keeps lying about her. An unreasonable twinge of jealousy shoots through Liam, but he tries to ignore it. He always thought that sitting on someone’s unmade bed is quite intimate, but he does it anyway and in respectable distance from Zayn, who sits crossed legged, twirling the Zippo with his fingers.

Zayn’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. “Looks like you’re shocked by my living arrangements.”

“A bit yeah...it’s so noisy and cramped.” 

Zayn shrugs, his eyes unnervingly fixed on his guest.

Liam can’t believe how massively he misjudged him. He shudders as he recalls that conversation they’ve had at the bank. No wonder that Zayn thinks he’s a total tosser. Uncomfortably aware of Zayn’s gaze, he decides to make amends.

“I’m sorry about the way I talked down to you. That was never my intention.” He hunches his shoulders, unsure what else to say.

Zayn nods, studying him carefully. “There you go with the apologies again,” he says, this time without venom. “But I guess, I haven’t been very friendly either. Let’s forget about it, yeah?”

“Ok,” Liam says, relief in his voice. Now would probably be the sensible time to leave and keep the professional relationship between financial adviser and client intact, even though he wants to know so much more about Zayn, wants to ask him so many personal questions, but in the end, he goes with a neutral topic. 

“You study literature, huh? That’s a pretty difficult subject, right?”

“Nah, it’s more time consuming than difficult. I usually ace the stuff,” Zayn says, and it should sound smug, but somehow it doesn’t.

“Do you have to stick with that job, though? You always look so tired and worn out.”

“It fits in with my studies and... my aversion to working closely with others.” 

The fruity smell of shower gel fills the air, putting all of Liam’s senses on high alert, although he can’t concentrate on that right now because an idea is crossing his mind. 

“Zayn, I know you’re not hot on anyone helping you out, but would you maybe allow me to try? I’d have to make some calls, and nothing might come off it anyway, so…”

“In return for what?” Zayn cuts in.

Liam is caught off guard. “What..no...nothing. What do you mean?”

“I mean, people don’t do anything for nothing, and I want to know why you want to help me,” Zayn states matter of factly, glancing sideways at Liam. 

Robbed of speech, Liam just stares for a minute. What is he meant to say to that? If he had only realised how deeply suspicious of people Zayn is, he would have approached the whole thing differently. And what is the answer anyway? Because I find you insanely attractive? Because you barged into my perfectly organised life, messing with my feelings? Because I want nothing more than to make you smile? None of those is even close to an acceptable response. Honesty without the gush is the best option, he decides.

“I want to help you because I think you deserve a break and you said it yourself; I’m supposed to be on your side.”

Zayn pinches his bottom lip between his fingers. “Alright...will you let me know?”

“Yeah, I’ll ring you if there is any news. I have your details at work.” Liam is trying hard to hide his delight. 

“It’s not fair that I don’t have your number,” Zayn complains.

“You have it; I gave you my card.”

“That’s not your personal number. All you get is ‘Liam Payne is not able to take your call right now..blah, blah, blah...and it’s not even your voice.” 

“You rang the number then?”

“Might have.”

Liam stifles a chuckle as he pulls one of his business cards and a pen out of his breast pocket, writes his mobile number on the back of it and passes it to Zayn, who sticks it into his back pocket.

“I’m gonna go now; I’ll be in touch,” Liam says, pushing himself off the bed. He is almost through the door when he hears Zayn calling his name. 

He turns around to find him cuddling his pillow to his body. “You look great in that suit,” he says, batting his sinfully long eye-lashes. 

“Um...thank you...I...I gotta go.” 

The heat outside has nothing on the hot flushes surging through his body as he practically flees the building. Liam inwardly curses Zayn’s ability to leave him tongue-tied with his suggestive remarks. If he could only work out why he likes to make him squirm like this. What if he has cottoned on to how Liam feels about him? He has been so careful not be too obvious about it. There is no way that Zayn would ever return those feelings. And even if he did, that would present Liam with a whole new set of problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for your patience and leave me a comment with your thoughts. Thanks for reading :) x


	8. Chapter 8

Zayn

The humidity is almost unbearable as Zayn makes his way home and it doesn't do anything to improve his mood. Uni had been a seemingly endless string of vapid lectures. Due to a detrimental lack of caffeine, he had fallen asleep in the one after lunch, where the guest professor felt the need to call him out publically, stating that he will be getting nowhere in life with this attitude and when Zayn pointed out that he is actually the one with the best grades of anyone in the entire auditorium, he didn't even apologise. Deep down, though, Zayn knows that the real reason for his grumpiness lies elsewhere. A whole week has passed without a word from Liam. No matter how many times he checks his phone, the message he is waiting for refuses to appear. He can't remember if Liam said that he would get in touch regardless or only if whatever he was trying to do was successful. The moment when he was talking about it is crystal clear in Zayn’s mind, but all the details he can remember is his smile and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. Fuck, he can’t remember ever being so desperate to hear from anyone. Liam has put some cracks into his armour, and he has no idea how to handle that.

At the hostel, he finds Niall on the outside steps, tinkering on his guitar. 

“You should put a hat out and earn some spare cash,” Zayn teases. 

“Hey... not around here I'm afraid.” Niall looks up. “It’s too bloody sticky inside. I wish this weather would do one.” 

“Agreed.” Zayn nods.

“Listen,” Niall says, putting the instrument down and taking a swig from his water bottle. "I spoke to Hazza, and we’re thinking we should go swimming in Hyde Park...maybe Saturday? I have a gig at some wine bar that evening...we could make a day of it.” 

“Wine bar? That’s not your usual crowd is it?”

“Yeah, tell me about it. That’s why I’m sitting here, trying to come up with a suitable setlist. So, are you in?”

“Ok, why not,” Zayn says. “Hazza can do with some cheering up. He still hasn’t heard from Louis and -”

He can’t continue because a muffled ping comes from his pocket and he scrambles for his phone, fumbling and almost dropping it onto the pavement. Turns out that his heart is racing for nothing, since the message is from a workmate, trying to arrange a leaving do for someone who Zayn doesn’t particularly like. 

His disappointment must be showing, judging by the amused look that Niall gives him. 

“Waiting for something important?” 

“No, just thought that might be my bank,” Zayn mutters, which technically isn't even a lie.

“Is that the bank that’s always on your case and whose contact attempts you normally avoid like the plague?” Niall asks, grinning from ear to ear.

“You’ve really missed your calling as a comedian, Ni, but I’m not in the mood for your crap right now.” Zayn’s mouth twitches in a pained grimace.

Niall squints past Zayn. “Well mate, I hate to tell you this, but I can see your next problem coming up the road. Hope you’re in the mood for that. I’ll be out of here and let you two get on with it,” he announces, grabbing his guitar before disappearing into the building.

Checking over his shoulder, Zayn can see Dixie coming towards him. They haven’t talked since that argument after the gig. It’s been radio silence apart from a few text messages that felt distant and without the usual affection. 

Dixie slows to a halt in front of him. “Hi,” she says with an uncertain smile on her lips. 

“Hi...how’ve you been Dix?”

“Fine...but…”

“But?”

To Zayn’s surprise, she lunges forward, wrapping her arms around him. “I’ve missed you, Zaynie. I hate that we’ve fallen out like that,” she muffles, squishing her face into his t-shirt.

“Me too, babe. I’m sorry that I took my frustrations out on you,” he says, smiling softly.

“S’ok, I got over it. Let’s not fight anymore.” She releases his body, reaching for his hand instead.

“Oh, by the way, did the cute guy from the gig find you?”

“What? How do you know about that?” Zayn’s smile fades into a small frown.

“I’ve met him in the corridor the other day and told him where your room is. He’s the one you didn’t wanna tell me about, right?”

“Yeah...but there’s still nothing to tell,” Zayn says, lowering his gaze to the ground, kicking away a loose piece of gravel. 

“I’ll tell you something...he’s a bit fit.” Dixie prods him playfully in the chest.

“Oi, hands off... I saw him first,” Zayn protests, not quite able to keep the annoyance out of his voice. 

She tilts her head back, laughing out loud. “You have fallen for him big time. I’d never thought you could be like this but don’t worry, I’ve got Lauren. She’s all I need.”

“It’s going good with her then? She’s treating you well?” he asks, feeling rather silly for overreacting like that. 

“She is so amazing. She takes me to all these swanky restaurants and buys me lots of wonderful things, but it’s not only that. It’s the way she looks at me and listens to what I have to say,” Dixie gushes. 

“Where is she getting the money from? Isn’t she doing the same job as you?” Zayn regrets his words as soon as they leave his mouth. Here he is again, questioning Dixie’s relationship, based entirely on his gut feeling. 

“Dunno...she’s got a trust fund or something.” She lets go of his hand, sweeping her fringe out of her eyes. 

Zayn’s eyebrows shoot up, but he decides not to comment further. He draws her close, planting a peck onto her head. “If she makes you happy, then that’s good enough for me,” he says, hoping that she believes him.

They make their way inside, separating at the top of the stairs, hugging once more. When he gets back to his room, he throws his bag in the corner and sinks onto his bed. Why can’t Liam just get in touch? And why is Zayn so upset about the fact that he hasn’t? Staring glumly at the wall, he reaches for his phone at the exact moment that it pings again. No, he still doesn’t want to go to some douchebag's party. He glances at the screen, and suddenly his heart pulsates in his throat. 

‘Liam Payne now’, he reads next to the message icon. 

After a deep breath, he opens the text and the further he reads, the bigger his smile grows:

‘Hi Zayn, it’s me. Sorry, it took me so long, but I have some good news, I think. Could you meet me on Friday maybe? I could come to a cafe near you or something. Let me know. :) ‘

Ok, so what should he do? Reply immediately and risk looking desperate? Or play it cool and risk Liam making other plans for Friday afternoon? No, he can’t take that chance. So after chuckling to himself for a moment at the fact that Liam used perfect punctuation in a text, he starts typing.

‘Yeah, that’ll work I can be at my uni cafe for 5 have some essay work to do anyway Z’

That should do, he reckons, and before he can change his mind, he hits the send button. He sits there for a little while longer, staring at his phone. It will be great to see Liam again; but then what? Zayn has never had that problem where he couldn’t tell if somebody is interested in him or not. Usually, the guys he meets make it very clear that they want him and then they take charge of the situation. Liam confuses the shit out of him. He bends over backwards to help him, without making a single demand. Zayn is certain that he rattles Liam's cage every time he is being suggestive, but the guy won’t do anything about it. Harry’s idea to make the first move makes sense, but how can he? He absolutely won’t be able to stomach being rejected by yet another person since he considers not wanting to have his heart metaphorically torn from his body again a reasonable goal in life.

Liam

“I’m on my way out Lou. You’re lucky you’ve caught me at all. Can’t this wait till later?” Liam says, closing the door behind his friend. Louis is pale with dark shadows around his eyes, and he looks as if he hasn’t shaved in a while. Liam doesn’t have the heart to turn him away.

“Never mind, what’s the matter?”

“I don’t know what to do,” Louis says, a little panicked. “She wants me to book that bloody flight to her parents. I’ve been trying to talk to her, but I can’t find the words, and now she wants a commitment from me...she wants to announce our engagement when we’re over there. Li, you’ve gotta help me.” 

“I’ve told you ages ago to deal with it.” Liam’s tone is a little harsh, but he really can’t believe that Louis is burying his head in the sand like this.

“How’s it going with Harry?” he asks, glancing at his watch, acutely aware that he will be late for his meeting with Zayn if this takes much longer.

“Haven’t talked to him lately. I stopped answering his calls cause Nat was getting suspicious and now he probably thinks I’m a dick. It’s all such a fucking mess.” Louis wipes his eyes. 

God, now he’s crying. No way can Liam leave him hanging like this.

“C’mere you moron.” He puts his arm around Louis’ shoulders, tousling his hair. “We need to sort this. Tell me how you feel about Nat...and no bullshit.”

Louis takes a shaky breath. “I really like her. She’s a great girl, and we have a laugh together. I’m very comfortable around her.”

“Is that it?”

Louis shrugs, slowly shaking his head at him.

“You know, I could say all those things about her, and it wouldn’t even sound weird, but I’m not the one who’s in a romantic relationship with her,” Liam points out. “Ok, let’s cross-reference, just to be sure...how do you feel when you think about Harry?”

A dark shade of beetroot flushes Louis ’previously greyish complexion. “My chest gets tight...I feel hot all over,” he admits, butting his head against Liam’s shoulder. “I wonder every day where he is and what he’s doing and if he’s ok. Honestly Li, he’s haunting my life.”

“Right, that’s case closed then.” Liam takes Louis’ face between his hands, forcing him to make full eye-contact. “You’re gonna tell her, and you’re gonna do it as soon as possible.”

“She expects me ‘round hers later.” Louis lets out a slow breath. “She wants to discuss the trip and our future...guess I can’t stall any longer.”

“No, you can’t. Don’t disappoint me Lou; grow a pair and do it.” Liam gives him a friendly slap on the back. “But now I’ve gotta shoot...have a meeting with a client.” 

Louis nods absentmindedly as he trudges out the door. The fact that he doesn’t question what kind of client Liam is meeting in jeans and a baggy baseball top is a testament to how distracted and worried he is. Poor guy.

*****

Liam is as good as never late for anything, but today he arrives at his destination an unfashionable 35 minutes after the agreed time. He didn’t even think to give Zayn the heads up. What if he’s already gone? He runs the last 500 metres or so until he reaches the glass-fronted building that houses the uni cafe. The oppressive heat is still sucking the energy out of every living thing, and Liam can feel sweat running down his back, making his shirt stick uncomfortably to his skin. A wave of cold air hits him when he opens the door to the crowded coffee shop. The place is quite basic with an array of mismatched tables and chairs scattered around, but it has a friendly, relaxed atmosphere. 

He spots Zayn before he is fully through the entrance, and what he sees stops him in his tracks. Zayn sits at a table in the back, thumbing through a large book, flicking the end of his pen up and down between his lips. He is wearing a cosy looking grey cardigan with the same low cut t-shirt he had on for his interview at the bank, but it takes Liam a few seconds to figure out what’s different about him. Zayn is wearing glasses; glasses with a thin black rim and the whole look is simply stunning. If anyone made a painting depicting this scene, he would be first in line to buy it. 

“Are you coming or going? I don’t want to air-condition the entire neighbourhood.” A short guy with a badge saying ‘Manager’ on his shirt cuts into Liam’s thoughts. 

“Sorry, mate,” Liam gasps. He didn’t realise that he was holding his breath. 

The manager dude shuffles away, shaking his head but not before he shuts the door with exaggerated emphasis. Liam hurries over to where Zayn is now writing some notes on a small pad. 

“Thank god, you’re still here,” he says, taking the other chair at the small table.

Zayn shoots him an odd look over the top of his glasses. “No worries, I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“It's just that Louis dropped by and he's having some issues, and I couldn't fob him off,” Liam explains, leaning back in his seat. 

Zayn nods, replacing the cap on his pen. “You want a coffee?”

“Yeah, might as well.” Liam reaches into his back pocket for his wallet.

“No need for that,” Zayn says, beckoning to a lanky, blonde guy behind the bar.

“I can’t have you pay,” Liam insists.

“I’m not,” Zayn tells him. “Adam will foot the bill for us,” he expands, gesturing towards the lanky guy. “He’s on my course, and without me, his degree would be in mortal danger.”

There is no opportunity to argue as Adam arrives to take their order.

“My usual and coffee for my friend, please.” Zayn requests. 

Liam barely notices the waiter slink away because Zayn’s words echo in his ears. He called him his friend. That’s much more than he could have hoped for but still a million miles away from what he would like it to be. To top it all off, his cheeks are heating up despite the cool air in the cafe.

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat before having another go at paying for the drinks. “I really shouldn’t accept -”

“Liam, you really should. Come on, be a rebel.” Zayn interrupts him, his eyes displaying a mixture of amusement and something else that Liam can’t identify right now. Liam just grins stupidly, even though that was a clear dig at his fuddy-duddy tendencies, but Zayn’s voice is so soft and...yeah. 

“You know those glasses suit you...they accentuate your eyes.” Liam blurts out, unable to believe that some sub-conscious process forced him to say that out loud.

Just then, Adam approaches their table with the drinks, placing the mugs in front of them. Liam is grateful for the chance to pull his rambling thoughts together. He resists the temptation to put sugar into the steaming liquid; adding extra milk instead. 

“I’m sure you didn’t come here to discuss my choice of eyewear,” Zayn says, peering at him over the rim of his mug, giving no indication how he feels about that little outburst.

Liam sits up straight. “Right, so I was talking to another one of my customers, Mr Sheeran, who owns a small publishing company. Turns out, he’s looking for an editor. Thing is that he only started out and can’t pay what an experienced editor would command. I told him about you, and he is very interested. You could work anywhere you can take your laptop and would only have to attend the odd meeting. Not to mention, that you wouldn’t need a car anymore. The wages are not brilliant but better than what you earn at present. I’ll forward you his details in a minute,” he explains, taking his phone out of his pocket and placing it on the table. He feels a lot calmer, now that he is in business mode.

Zayn takes another sip of his coffee, blinking rapidly but says nothing.

“Zayn?” 

After what seems like an eternity, he responds in a small voice. “I don’t know what to say...nobody has ever done anything like this for me.” Then, a mischievous grin spreads across his face. “If you weren't my adviser, I’d kiss you right here and now.”

And just like that, Liam’s calmness evaporates into thin air. His heart starts racing as images of him, and Zayn entangled in a passionate embrace flood his mind. With some effort he hauls himself back to reality, gulping down the rest of his bitter coffee. Looking around in vain for a napkin, he reluctantly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“I consider it part of my job, and I’m glad I could help. Plus, I look forward to seeing your bank balance improve.”

Half of his brain is egging him on ‘You’re talking drivel, Liam. Why don’t you tell him that you like him...like really like him’. The other half is playing the professional card ‘Don’t embarrass yourself. You know he is a tease; don’t walk into that trap’. To his great relief, he doesn’t have to choose a side because Zayn is smiling over at him. 

“You really love your job, huh?”

Liam nods. “I like numbers I guess.”

“What do you like about them? I mean, I’m good at maths, but I find numbers too clinical, sterile even...they have no nuances.”

“Yeah, that’s why I like them; what you see is what you get...no guessing.”

“Hm...I prefer words,” Zayn says, scratching at the stubble on his jaw. “The way they hold a different meaning depending on how you put them together and the intonation you give them. Language is our most powerful weapon; it can start and end wars.”

“Wow, I never thought of it like that. I wish I could be as confident as you.” Liam positively didn’t expect to have this conversation with Zayn. 

“I’m only confident in my academic ability. As a person I suck, I’m afraid,” Zayn says with weary resignation.

“No Zayn, that’s not true.” On impulse, Liam reaches over to grab Zayn’s wrist. “Why would you even -”

The moment is ruined when the phone starts vibrating, displaying Louis’ name. No fucking way; not now Tomlinson. Liam does his best to turn a blind eye to the interfering device and focuses on Zayn, who is staring at Liam’s hand on his wrist. Eventually, the phone falls silent, only to start up again with a barrage of notifications.

“Immaculate fucking timing,” Liam mutters under his breath after quickly scanning the messages. Louis’ chat with Natasha was apparently a disaster, judging by the expletives he typed out.

Zayn carefully removes his arm from Liam’s grip. “Is he ok?”

“I hope so. Looks like he broke up with his girlfriend.”

“That sucks,” Zayn says, thoughtfully.

“Does Harry ever talk about Louis?” Liam asks, pressing the home button to switch off the screen.

Zayn lets out a half laugh. “The correct question is: Does Harry ever not talk about Louis.”

“Really? So you think he’s genuinely interested?” Liam is not sure if getting involved in Louis’ love life is wise, but maybe he should at least try to do something to help. 

“Definitely, although he’s got it into his head that your mate has already forgotten all about him.”

“God, he couldn't be more wrong if he tried. If only they would talk to each other,” Liam muses. “Harry is a good guy, right?”

“The best.” 

Zayn picks up his pen, chewing on the cap, seemingly deep in thought. After a minute of silence, he leans forward, and it is evident from his face that he is plotting something.

“We’re going swimming in Hyde Park tomorrow. You could join us...and bring Louis...without telling him anything, obviously.”

“Who’s we?” Liam enquires.

“Me and the lads...Dixie won’t be there if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I wasn’t...um...it’s just that Louis will be stroppy, to put it mildly; and so I don’t want there to be a large audience.” Liam inwardly congratulates himself on that off-the-cuff explanation, but he really needs to work on being less transparent

“Yeah, whatever you say,” Zayn snorts. “You’re coming then?”

Pretending to be undecided, Liam strokes the back of his neck before nodding slowly. “Ok, I’m not usually a massive fan of deceiving my friends, but those two need a kick up the backside.”

“Great, that’s that sorted. Hopefully, Louis won’t suspect anything..oh and Liam...thanks again for what you did,” Zayn beams. 

Rightly or wrongly; Zayn’s killer smile goes right to Liam’s groin.

Pre-empting a potentially awkward situation, he picks up his phone again. ”I’ll just give you Ed Sheeran’s details, and then I’m gonna have to go,” he says, typing out the information.

“Alright, catch you tomorrow.” Zayn gives him a little wave, before re-opening his textbook. Returning the gesture, Liam turns to leave.

On his way back to the tube station, anxious and conflicting thoughts attack him from all sides. He wants to help Louis out but to do that he has to lie to him. The prospect of seeing Zayn again so soon sends a flutter to his stomach, even though he is fully aware that Zayn only invited him so he can help Harry. Why did he even agree to this? Being near Zayn makes Liam do stupid things, and he doesn’t like it. He needs to be in control of his life, not wanting to repeat past mistakes. 

Tomorrow looms over him like a huge, black storm cloud and he can only hope that neither Louis nor Harry will want to bring his life to an untimely end after the meetup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again for your patience x I hope you've enjoyed this chapter and btw things will (finally) heat up in the next chapter :) x


	9. Chapter 9

Liam

“And then she said that she'd had her suspicions for a while, about me going out all the time and never giving her any details about what I got up to. The whole engagement thing was supposed to scare me and force me into coming clean with her. Can you believe that? She’s played me, Payno, and I fell for it.” 

Louis has been wallowing in self-pity ever since he got into Liam’s Audi, rabbiting on about his talk with Natasha. They are on their way to Hyde Park, and the heavy Saturday traffic combined with Louis’ incessant rambling is grating on Liam’s nerves. 

“You shouldn’t have underestimated her. She’s a clever girl and anyway, that explains why she would suggest a commitment like that after only seven months.” Liam says wearily, kneading his temple in search for a pressure point. 

It’s not that he doesn’t sympathise with Louis, but his constant verbal output in such a confined space is not ideal, especially since Liam feels distinctly uneasy about this outing. As a result, he is only half-listening. Fortunately, Louis doesn’t seem to notice. 

“...that’s why I think that swimming is a great idea,” are the next words that Liam takes in. 

“Yes, absolutely,” he agrees, thinking how really not great that idea it is. There is a reason why he hasn’t been swimming for ages. There is a reason why he chose to wear his knee-length Adidas shorts and a black, oversized t-shirt today. He lets his mind wander to one of the last conversations he’s had with John. 

“Baby, you need to lay off the secret snacks. Were you hoping I wouldn’t find out? Mirrors don’t lie, sweetheart. I can’t introduce you to my mates if you let yourself go like this now can I? You understand that, right?” 

John had smiled sweetly, but Liam can still recall the devastation those words had caused. He had felt small, worthless and undeserving of John’s love. He didn’t cheat on his food plan all that often because he wanted to please his then-boyfriend, but sometimes the cramping in his stomach was hard to bear.

Shaking his head, he clears the hurtful memory from his mind, just in time to discover that Louis has thankfully reached the end of his breakup deliberations. 

“So, there you have it; I’m totally single now, and that should be ace right? You’ll see a lot more of me, mate,” he says, jabbing his finger playfully into Liam’s arm.

Maybe now that Louis got that off his chest, the journey can continue in a more quiet fashion. 

The tranquility lasts for a full two minutes before Louis brings up his other favourite topic; how much Harry must hate him, now that he’s been ignored for so long and that it was such a mistake and that he wishes that he could turn back the clock and that he will never find another god-like creature like Harry ever again and that he might as well join a monastery. It’s just as well that Liam is not actually required to say anything. He lets Louis’ babbling wash over him as he concentrates on weaving in and out of the endless lines of cars.

A further fifteen minutes later and the open spaces of Hyde Park come into view. Liam steers the Audi into a vacant space in the packed car park not too far from the lake. He slides out from behind the wheel and grabs his rucksack to retrieve his phone. There is a message from Zayn, informing him that they are right by the water just down from the changing rooms. A rogue thought of shirtless Zayn flits through his brain, making him smile. After a glance around, he locates the row of cubicles.

Louis is hoisting his backpack onto his shoulders, throwing a few sceptical looks Liam’s way, as they make their way through the myriad of vehicles to the grassy area. 

“Tell me again why we’re here in this antiquated place with all this nature stuff? Couldn’t we just have gone to Aquaterra? They have slides and waves and shit, and you’re not normally the sun-worshipping type, are you?” he asks, waving his arms theatrically.

“You and I can use a little fresh air after being office based all week,” Liam says, trying to keep his voice as natural as possible. 

Louis scowls at him but seems to accept that flimsy explanation. Liam strides ahead, trying to avoid more tricky questions as well as the people who are lying on blankets, tanning themselves. Louis follows him like a petulant child, muttering about too cold water and possible ducks on the lake. Zayn, Harry and Niall sit on their towels halfway down the slope, where Liam sees them straight away but Louis doesn’t recognise Harry until he is right in front of him. The three lads stand up, and nobody says anything at first, which creates a bit of a weird situation. Louis throws his bag on the ground, putting his hands on his hips, before confronting Liam. 

“You backstabbing tosser; I hope you’re satisfied, setting me up like this,” he fumes. 

“I was trying to help you out, Tommo,” Liam explains, already feeling remorseful for agreeing to do this.

“Don’t come at me with your fake concern,” Louis says hotly. “You know how much Harry means to me, but here you are, having no problem ruining everything.”

“You can blame me; I talked him into it,” Zayn intervenes, moving next to Liam. As expected, he is not wearing a shirt, and his jeans are hanging low on his hips, which makes it difficult for Liam to concentrate on Louis’ rant. The fact that Zayn’s bare arm is repeatedly brushing against his doesn’t help much either.

“I don’t even know this guy...seen him once for about two seconds...why would you talk to him about me?” Louis points an accusatory finger at Liam. 

“Knock it off Tommo. It seemed a good idea at the time,” Liam offers in his defence.

“Yeah, brilliant idea...the total mortification of Louis Tomlinson,” Louis spits. “You’ve made me look like a completely desperate twat in front of him,” he adds, gesturing at Harry, who has so far not reacted in any way; just stands rooted to the spot, in a pair of yellow swim shorts and an impossibly loud Hawaiian shirt, nibbling on his bottom lip. 

Niall puts on his sunglasses and grabs a can of lager from the cool box. “Well, gentleme +n, I was not anticipating to take part in an episode of Jeremy Kyle today, but if you insist, I’m uniquely qualified to tell each and every one of you that you’re idiots. None of you can see what’s staring you in the face. That said, I'm gonna uninvolve myself and have a chat with those lovely ladies, who winked at me on our way in,” he says, strolling away, in the direction of the entrance. 

Following a few seconds of awkward silence, Louis is the first one to find his voice, carrying on exactly where he left off. “I haven’t got a clue what he’s on about, but it doesn’t change anything. You’re a two-faced git, Liam, and that after you gave me all those grand speeches about how I gotta be honest and all that crap.” 

Liam throws Zayn a ‘told you he was gonna be stroppy’ look, which prompts him to put a supportive hand on Liam’s back and just for that, this whole spectacle is almost worth it. 

Louis’ drama queen performance goes on relentlessly until out of nowhere, Harry lunges forward, draws Louis close and kisses him gently on the lips before he can hurl any more insults at Liam. 

“Shut up, Lou. I’m beyond happy to see you. What do you say, we have a dip in the lake and then find somewhere more private so we can talk,” Harry says when he pulls back. 

Louis’ face is a picture. He has gone bright red, his outraged glare replaced by a somewhat stupefied grin. “Oh Haz...yeah?...ok,” he stammers as Harry takes his hand, leading him down to the lake. 

“That was impressively smooth,” Zayn remarks, watching the two of them disappear out of sight.

Liam breathes a sigh of relief, happy that their gamble seems to have paid off. “Yeah, looks like no damage was done.”

“Sooo...that leaves us two,” Zayn says, stating the obvious. “I’m gonna work on my tan for a bit. Are you gonna join them for a swim?” 

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Liam produces his towel from his rucksack, placing it alongside Zayn's. “What about you?”

“Nah...it’s too deep...I can’t swim,” Zayn says unconcerned. 

Liam quirks an eyebrow. “You can’t? And you don’t mind telling me that?”

“Why would I? Some people can’t tell their Wordsworths from their Byrons and others can’t swim... You find that strange?” 

“No, it’s just that back when I was at school; admitting to something like that would get you bullied,” Liam flops onto the towel. 

Zayn gives a sarcastic snort. “Back at my school that was the least of my problems, seeing that I was one of the few non-whites at a private school and a Muslim to boot; someone who was inked, who smoked stuff and who liked boys. Sometimes you have to learn not to give a fuck what anyone thinks or says about you, Liam.”

Liam flinches a little. That sounded remarkably like another jibe; but how could it be, when Zayn has zero clue how Liam feels about himself? It was probably nothing. 

Fortunately, Zayn changes the subject. “We might as well catch some rays,” he suggests, plucking a bottle of sunscreen from his bag and offering it to Liam. 

“Thanks, but too much sun doesn’t agree with me.” Liam is conscious of how lame that sounds.

Zayn studies him for a moment, then cracks a smile. “Ok, whatever you say. Would you do me the honour?” he asks, throwing the bottle into Liam’s lap. 

Oh God! There is nothing that he wants to do more right now than to run his hands over Zayn’s back. But what is the correct way of doing this; purely as a friend? What if this is another one of Zayn’s ‘Let’s tease Liam and watch him squirm’ moments? 

While Liam fumbles to open the bottle, Zayn turns onto his stomach, resting his head face down on his folded arms. Liam takes a deep breath and squirts some cream into his palm. His hands almost run by themselves over Zayn’s shoulder blades, along his spine and down to his narrow waist. When he stops just before the soft curve of Zayn’s ass, Zayn pushes up, accompanied by tiny whimpering noises, which send small shockwaves through Liam. He can feel himself get hard as beads of sweat trickle down his face and his heart starts galloping in his chest. He is almost convinced that everyone within a fifty-metre radius is aware of the rapidly growing predicament in his shorts. Back in the day, he would have handled a situation like this very differently, but as it is, he can only hope that he can continue to resist the temptation to slide his hand under the waistband of Zayn’s jeans. 

He has no idea how long he has been doing this or at which point the application of sunscreen has morphed into the caressing of Zayn’s body when a strangled moan from the object of his affection threatens to send him over the edge. His painfully hard dick shows no sign of giving him a break either, judging by the amount of pre-cum that is seeping through the material of his shorts and if at all possible, his heart is beating even faster. He needs to get away before he does something that could ruin their fledgeling friendship.

With what he hopes is a suitable bro type thing to do, he gives Zayn a final pat on the shoulder before he pushes himself off the ground. 

“M’gonna just...um...back in a minute,” he splutters, and without looking at Zayn or waiting for a response, he hurries away. 

Maybe he should just have a cold shower to solve his immediate problem but the showers are outside, and in full view of everyone, so he heads a little further to one of the rickety huts that serve as changing rooms. The small cubicle is bare apart from a wooden bench along the wall and a bin. Liam sinks onto the bench, his hand involuntarily reaching into his shorts and wrapping itself around his throbbing erection. This is so very undignified, but he can’t stop himself from stroking his dick impatiently while reliving every detail of the sunscreen episode. Zayn’s perfect physique, his slender neck and the feel of his silky skin. And then it only takes the thought of that x-rated moan to let him find his release. The exhilarating feeling of his orgasm mixes with the sharp pain from when he bites down hard on his bottom lip to prevent himself from screaming out Zayn’s name.

As he waits for his breathing to slow, he watches the hot mess turn into unsightly white patches all over his t-shirt and shorts. This really has to be a low point in his wanking history. It doesn't take much imagination to work out what those stains are and how they got there. No way can he face the other lads like this and least of all Zayn.

The best thing to do would probably be to take that shower after all, even though his clothes will be hugging his body, but it will still be the lesser of two evils. Opening the cubicle door and checking carefully that the coast is clear, he sprints down to the row of showers.The water doesn't even make it to lukewarm, but it's enough to disguise the telltale marks for now. Having gotten rid of the evidence, he makes his way back to the others. 

Zayn and Niall are having a heated debate, which they stop as soon as they see Liam approaching. So they were talking about him. Great. 

“Do you always shower with your shirt on?” Niall asks, raising his eyebrows. 

“Just needed to cool down,” Liam says, picking his towel off the grass.  
He is saved from having to explain himself further because all eyes are now on Harry and Louis, who have returned, looking rather flushed and dishevelled. They clearly haven’t done any swimming either. 

“Excellent, the gang’s all here. Would like to invite you all to my gig tonight at ‘Le Rouge’ in Notting Hill. It’s a wine bar, and it’s quite posh, and I’m basically bricking it, and so I would like to see some friendly faces...who’s coming?” Niall asks, looking at each of them expectantly.

Everyone raises a hand in unison except Liam, who is putting his towel around his shoulders, because out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Zayn scrutinising him. 

“Payno?” Louis asks.

“I’m not sure I can make it...have things to do,” Liam says, self-consciously wrapping the towel tighter around his body. 

In an ideal world, Zayn would right about now encourage him to come along, but he says nothing, and that’s all the information Liam needs to make up his mind not to go. There is no point anyway, seeing that Zayn tenaciously lies about his relationship status. 

“It’s the weekend...chill a little,” Louis persists. If only he knew that being anywhere near Zayn is the least chill thing on this earth as far as Liam is concerned. 

“The credit reports I have to write unfortunately don’t care about chilling, Louis, and that’s why I’m heading home now,” Liam says, trying to look anywhere but at Zayn and turning to Niall as he adds, “I’m sorry mate. I hope all goes well for you.”

“Thanks, Liam; if you change your mind, you know where we are,” Niall says jovially.

“Can I catch a lift? Harry has to get ready for his roadie duties, and I need to make sure I look my best tonight.” Louis is actually quite adorable as he stands there, beaming at Harry.

Liam is glad to see his friend so happy, but he decides to make him grovel a bit as payback for the verbal attack from earlier. 

“You sure you want to get into a car with a backstabbing tosser?”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” Louis takes a couple of steps towards Liam. “I said that in the heat of the moment. You know I didn’t mean it.”

“Come on then...let’s go,” Liam growls, moving away swiftly.

Louis has trouble keeping up with him. He stumbles a few paces behind him all the way to the car. 

“I could lend you the spare shirt that’s in my bag,” he offers meekly.

“I don’t think so...unless I shrink miraculously in the next minute or so.” Liam gets into the car, motioning to Louis to get a move on. He leaves the towel hanging around his shoulders as the Audi roars to life. 

They stay quiet for a little while, then Louis pipes up,” I can’t believe you neglected to tell me that you’re hanging with that model guy from the gig...can’t remember what his name was.” 

“His name is Zayn, and he is not a model.”

“Well, he should be. Have you seen his perfectly sculptured facial features?”

“I haven’t noticed,” Liam huffs, rubbing a hand over his cheek. Louis is seriously hard work today. 

“Oh my God, you can’t lie for shit, Payno.” Louis shrieks with laughter. “Admit it; you like him, and he likes you too. After all, he defended you.”

Yeah, whatever. Liam can’t be bothered to explain to him that Zayn did what he did to help Harry and that he then probably felt guilty and so he said what he said. That makes him a decent guy but is not an indication of how he feels about Liam.

“Hang on; wasn’t he with a girl that night?” Louis evidently can’t find it in his heart to give Liam a moments peace.

Liam slows down abruptly before pulling over to the side of the road. 

“Either shut up or walk,” he barks, trying not to smile at Louis’ shocked expression.

“Alright, alright, calm your tits. I’ll just sit here quietly and…”

“And?”

“And think of Harry,” Louis says with a blissful sigh.

Liam can’t stop himself from grinning any longer. He pats Louis’ knee affectionately as he filters back into traffic and surprisingly, his passenger keeps his word until they arrive at their apartment building. 

*****

The cool air in his flat is sheer bliss. After getting out of his sticky clothes, he takes another shower; this time a steaming hot one, and puts on comfortable jogging bottoms with a soft jumper. 

He is trying desperately not to think about Zayn and the fact that he will be at that wine bar tonight. To distract himself, he starts to have a look at those credit reports. The familiar work calms him down for a good few hours. At half past eight his phone buzzes. It’s Louis, and the message reads:

‘ You should hurry and get your butt over here Zayn has a face like a wet weekend, in a supermodel kinda way obviously but still, he looks like he’s considering mass murder. '

Nice try, Louis, but no. Liam locks the screen without replying and returns to his paperwork, but only a few minutes later, another alert comes through. This time it’s Zayn. Liam’s heart jumps into his throat as he reads:

‘ Forgot to tell you I rang Mr Sheeran I’ll meet him next week thought I’ll let you know  
Z x '

An x..there is an x at the end of the text. Liam squeezes his eyes shut and opens them again. The x is still there. Maybe Zayn is one of these people who randomly put xes after all their messages, or maybe it was a mistake, or maybe he’s taking the piss. But what if he meant to put it there? Liam can’t think of anything to type that wouldn’t sound awkward and so he makes the split second decision to change into something worthy of a night out at a wine bar.

He needs to have a talk with Zayn, and he needs to have it now before he loses his mind over all the unanswered questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are heading in the right direction, right? Or maybe not?  
> Thank you for reading x


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait again guys. Thank you so much for supporting me. I hope you like it x

Zayn

Zayn questioned the wisdom of his decision as soon as he hit the send button. Telling Liam that he arranged his interview? Really? Couldn’t he simply have asked him to come to the gig? Then again, he could have done that at the park but Liam looked so uncomfortable, and he clearly wanted to get away. And what about the x at the end of the message? Knowing Liam, he will think it’s a joke because he doesn’t know that, apart from Harry and Dixie, nobody gets virtual kisses from Zayn. And it’s not as if he can tell him because Liam is not fucking here. He has been scrolling through his phone for the past hour, checking in particular on Dixie’s social media activity. Both her Facebook and Snapchat show endless posts of a happy girl with her new love. Well, good for her. Maybe his intuition has failed him on this occasion. It would be nice. 

So far, this whole evening has been a catastrophe. It already started badly when the manager tried to refuse him entry, pointing to Zayn’s ripped jeans and his Iron Maiden tank top. Only when Niall said that he was part of his crew, was he allowed in. The gig itself wasn’t exactly a success either. The covers that they wanted the Irishman to perform didn’t come naturally to him and it showed. Some of the people sniggered and tutted while others clapped politely but without much enthusiasm. This is precisely the reason why Zayn hates these bars and why he never goes to visit Dix at work. He had felt sorry for his friend, but Niall didn’t take it too much to heart, saying that there would be other gigs and a chance to make up for this train-wreck. The air-conditioning in this place is the final straw. It has been cranked up to arctic levels to combat the sweltering heat outside, and Zayn muses that it fits the snooty and uninviting ambience of the place perfectly. 

Now he sits with the others in their booth, looking around at the garish decor, on benches covered in purple faux-fur to compliment the mirrored walls. He rolls his beer bottle between his hands, watching the sullen barman argue with a punter about the temperature of his wine. Niall is discussing Derby County’s chances of gaining promotion next season with some woman in the adjacent booth while Harry and Louis appear to float on their own cloud of happiness. Harry is dressed to kill in tight leather trousers and a sheer white shirt, showing off most of his chest. The odds of Louis escaping his advances are definitely minimal. Harry’s face is full of rapturous adoration for Louis, and it’s no more than he deserves. Since Zayn’s regrettable fainting episode, he has been providing him and Niall with a constant supply of food parcels, declaring that nobody is going to black out on his watch again. Him and Louis getting together is probably the only decent thing to happen today if he doesn’t count the experience of Liam rubbing sun cream onto his back. Zayn can still feel his hands on his skin, and the memory makes him tingle all over. Nobody has ever touched him with so much tenderness, and he wants to experience that again if only he knew how to convince Liam that it would be a good idea.

Looking around, everyone’s lips are moving, but Zayn couldn’t care less about their innate chit-chat. He catches sight of several people, both men and women, trying to get his attention. Luckily, none of them has the nerve to approach him. Niall occasionally tries unsuccessfully to include him in his conversation, and the lovebirds across from him are on planet PDA and completely oblivious to their surroundings. That’s fine though. Zayn is totally cool with only his drink and his thoughts for company. 

He is halfway through his third Stella when he glances up just in time to see Liam materialising at the edge of the small dancefloor. So he came. He actually came. Did he change his mind because of Zayn’s text? Or because he feels bad about declining Niall’s invitation? Or is he checking up on Louis? Could be any of those reasons or something completely different. 

Liam pauses for a second before he makes his way to the bar. Zayn momentarily loses sight of him in the crowd, but then he re-emerges. He looks amazing in black jeans and a simple black button down. The shirt reveals a bit more of his shape than normal. Zayn has been thinking a lot about what could be underneath Liam’s clothes that he doesn’t want anyone to see. A tattoo gone wrong maybe or a disfigurement of some sort? Zayn wishes he knew so that he could tell him that it doesn't matter. 

Just then, a man, probably in his mid-thirties, moves into Liam’s path, positioning himself so that Liam is trapped between him and the bar. Giving him a leering grin, the smarmy guy runs a hand up and down Liam’s arm, and Zayn can feel anger rising inside him. Every cell in his body wants him to go over there and tell that prick to take his filthy hands off Liam. Maybe his reaction is somewhat out of proportion, seeing that they are jst about friends, but he has to start admitting, at least to himself that he wishes it was more. What exactly, is a question to which the answer eludes him. He gives himself a shake, wondering what the hell has happened to ‘I don’t give a shit’ Zayn.” 

He can see that Liam is smiling, but it’s not one of his genuine smiles that make the edges of his eyes crinkle. Zayn has thought about those smiles enough to have an educated opinion on them. He can tell the difference even it’s quite dark, and Liam is a distance away. It’s more of a customer service smile, and hopefully, that means that he is not interested in that Hugh Grant wannabe. Fortunately, it appears as if Liam is trying to lose his admirer but the guy is persistent, and Zayn is seriously considering clocking him one, when a group of high-heeled women push into them, making it possible for Liam to escape. Beer in hand, he crosses the room towards the booth. 

Zayn feels his stomach lurching as he assesses the seating situation. There is more room on the opposite bench because Harry and Louis are virtually on top of each other while Niall, on Zayn’s side, is resting his bent leg on the seat. Liam hesitates briefly, then slides onto the corner of the bench next to Zayn, leaving only minimal space between them. 

“Hey,” Liam says. 

“Hey,” Zayn returns the greeting, unable to stop himself from adding,” A friend of yours was it?”

“Who? Oh, that guy at the bar? No, I reckon he was trying to chat me up.” Liam says earnestly, obviously under the impression that it was a legit question and Zayn thinks he might be charmed. He can’t actually remember being charmed by anyone ever but here is Liam doing just that and so he swallows the sarcastic comment that was on the tip of his tongue.

“I see...so how come you’re here?” 

“I felt bad about letting Niall down, and I fancied a beer. How was the gig? Did I miss much?” 

“Only stuck up people not appreciating a good performer; you know the type,” Zayn mutters, doodling swirling patterns on the table top with his finger. 

“People like me, you mean,” Liam says quietly, staring intently into his pint glass.

“No, Liam...as a matter of fact I have changed my mind about you...like completely.”

“You have?” A flicker of a smile crosses Liam's face. 

“Yeah.” 

This would probably be a good time to tell Liam that he means something to him, even if he has no idea what that something is, but Zayn’s body vibrates with the urge to touch him which severely disrupts the connection between his brain and his mouth. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see that everyone else at the table has halted their previous activities in order to turn their attention to him and Liam. Nosy buggers. Louis nods vigorously in Liam’s direction, Harry keeps winking at him, and Niall nudges him with his knee. It’s easy for the lot of them. They’re not the ones having to reverse multiple incidents of miscommunication. 

He’s not sure whether it’s down to the less than subtle encouragement of the other lads or the alcohol content of the three Stellas, but his hand moves practically of its own accord under the table and onto Liam’s knee. He can feel Liam’s muscles tense, but he doesn’t seem to object which leads to Zayn boldly moving his hand a fraction higher and that turns out to be the wrong thing to do. Liam mumbles something that Zayn can't understand before he rushes off past the bar and down the corridor that displays the ‘toilet’ sign. This time Zayn isn’t stopping to gauge the other’s reaction. As soon as he recovers from the comprehension that he has yet again upset Liam, he clambers out of the booth and follows him. This has gone on for far too long, and even if he might not like what he is going to hear, he needs to find out why Liam seems to want him but runs a mile when Zayn hints at wanting him back.

The toilet facilities at this club are as over the top as the rest of the venue. The kitschy purple theme carries on with huge artificial flowers in large plastic containers in every corner. Liam is standing in front of the long mirror; his head hung, his hands planted on either side of a wash basin. Zayn steps behind him, unable to resist admiring the way that Liam’s shirt stretches invitingly over his back and shoulders, but he isn’t going to make the same mistake twice by touching him without invitation. 

“Why is it so difficult for you to decide whether you want me or not?” he asks instead.

“I’ve been wanting your rude ass since the first time you came to my door, and I’m pretty sure you know that,” Liam says tight-lipped, looking at Zayn through the mirror.

“Oh really? Then why couldn't you bring yourself to take advantage of one of the gazillion opportunities I've presented you with?” Zayn grumbles.

He doesn’t know what kind of response he was expecting, but it was not Liam whirling around, picking him up by the waist and plonking him down between two of the sinks. 

“Ok, let's talk,” he says, grasping Zayn by the shoulders. “It’s not that straight-forward, is it?

“I dunno seems fairly straight-forward to me. I want you and you say it’s mutual,” Zayn says after the initial shock has worn off. His words tremble slightly because Liam is so close that his breath ghosts over Zayn’s face and it makes him giddy.

“Whenever I bring the conversation to Dixie, you rattle off some bullshit about not having a girlfriend,” Liam challenges, his voice low.

“That’s because it’s true. This has nothing to do with her,” Zayn barks back at him.

“So you don’t sleep with her? I don’t believe you. I’ve watched you two together at the pub and everything about that screamed intimacy.” 

“Yes, we’ve slept together if you must know, but she’s not my girlfriend.” Zayn is beginning to see why Harry and Niall are so adamant that his situation with Dixie might look suspicious to others. “ She’s my friend,” he adds with conviction.

“She’s your friend, and you sleep with her. How does that not make her your girlfriend?” Liam wants to know, eyes blazing.

“You wouldn’t understand, Liam.” 

“Exactly, and that’s our problem isn’t it? We’re just not on the same page.” Liam’s expression hardens.

Zayn knows that he is evasive, but how can he explain to him that all he and Dixie had in the past was each other. Those long nights, when he was mentally in a dark and lonely place, were made bearable by her company and she spent many hours seeking comfort in his arms. 

“I’m not trying to belittle your issues because I know you have some, but Dix and I were more or less booted out of our homes and disowned by our families. We’ve bonded over that and got close...maybe you can appreciate that? She’s in a relationship now though, so it’s a thing of the past anyway.” Zayn hopes that Liam can grasp at least some of that.

For an unnervingly long moment, he says nothing but his face softens. He slides his hands down to Zayn’s bare upper arms, bringing their foreheads together. 

“You’re right; I’m always judging everything by my own privileged standards,” Liam says eventually, his voice faltering. 

Shit, now Liam doubts himself again. That is so not what Zayn wanted to achieve. He should have chosen his words more carefully. On reflection, his explanation sounded rather condescending.

“No, that’s not-” he attempts to salvage the situation when he is interrupted by Liam’s mouth brushing lightly against his own.

If he weren’t already sitting down, he would go weak in the knees just now. And then he thinks that his heart might actually stop because Liam grips his shoulders a bit tighter and gently locks their lips. The kiss is almost chaste, just a faint touch of tongues. He’s been involved in amazing make-out sessions in his life, but none of them made him feel as heady and wanted as this tender kiss. He can feel the heat rising everywhere in his body, and he is ready for absolutely anything, but instead of giving him more, Liam lets go of him altogether and takes a step back, leaving Zayn bewildered. 

“What’s wrong?”

Liam looks as if he is about to say something but then he just shrugs, and Zayn reckons he can detect a faint blush creeping into his cheeks.

“If it’s this place that bothers you; we can go somewhere else,” Zayn offers.

Liam shuffles his feet, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“It’s not that,” he says. “If I keep kissing you, I won’t be able to control myself.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I certainly wouldn’t be complaining.”

Liam glances up briefly, then back to the ground but it was long enough for Zayn to notice the doubt in his eyes. If only he could work out what goes on in Liam’s head. 

“Am I reading this all wrong? Please, help me out here,” he tries again.

“No, you got it right. You know exactly what effect you have on me.” Liam’s tone is almost aggressive, which makes Zayn feel a certain way but now is not the time to dwell on that because Liam adds much more hesitantly,” I mean...we don’t...we aren’t even…”

“We aren’t even what, Liam?”

After a considerable delay, Liam whispers, ”Dating.” The word is barely audible, but Zayn is positive that’s what he said. 

“Huh? Dating?” he asks just to make sure.

“Yes...go on...take the piss,” Liam says, taking a few steps further away from Zayn.

“No...I’m just...honestly...I don’t know what to say. You only mess around with people you date?” Zayn is trying hard to process this information, thinking that at the very least it would explain a few things. 

Liam’s blush deepens. “I’m not into messing around with random guys. I think that the intention of some sort of commitment is important before it goes too far but it’s ok; I don’t expect you to understand that.”

Commitment? Great! That word strikes fear straight into the centre of Zayn’s heart, and that is probably the reason why he says what he says next.

“If it’s all about the commitment, then where are the other guys you’ve dated previously? Guess they weren’t all that committed.”

Without responding, Liam shakes his head in disbelief and turns to leave.

“Liam!...wait!”

Liam proceeds to open the door to the bar and just before he walks through it, he spins around, fixing Zayn with a glare. “Forget it,” he says, as it slams shut behind him.

Zayn is left sitting between the sinks, kind of confused and frustrated. He would like to tell himself that it’s merely sexual frustration he’s experiencing, but that would be light years from the truth. Of course, he wants Liam’s dick but most of all he wants those strong and yet so gentle hands to hold him, wants to listen to that cute chuckle, wants to look forever into those warm, kind eyes; to sum it all up, he wants to be with Liam. 

Deep in thought, he slides off the vanity unit and makes his way back to the booth. The shred of hope that Liam is still around vanishes when he finds only the three other lads at the table. Louis is bent over Harry, saying goodbye, which apparently involves peppering lots of tiny kisses all over his forehead. When he straightens up, he addresses everyone, although Zayn is convinced that the words are aimed at him.

“He looked upset; I’m gonna go after him....make sure he’s ok.” 

“Of course Lou,” Harry says, clearly not willing to let the situation take an awkward turn. “You gotta do what you gotta do. That’s just one more thing to add to the one million things that I already love about you.”

The minute Louis is out of earshot, Niall makes a string of gagging noises. 

“Stop it,” Zayn chides him, as he settles next to Harry. “We all know you don't have a romantic bone in your body.”

“You remember Amy? The girl from Hyde Park? I’ll have you know that I wrote her a song and she thinks it’s the most romantic thing ever.” Niall grins with satisfaction. 

“That’s until she susses, that you did it so you don’t have to part with any cash.” Harry deadpans. 

Niall’s grin broadens. “I’m practically brimming with romantic ideas that don’t cost a penny. I think that might be my real talent; plus I don’t have a mum who is willing and, more to the point, able to cater to my every whim.”

Harry is not the least bit fazed by that remark as he reaches for Zayn’s hand. “Are you ok babe?”

“Yeah, m’fine. Sorry to interfere with your plans for the evening.”

Harry runs his thumb over Zayn’s hand a couple of times and then lets go of it to push his locks out of his face. “You haven’t. We’re going to an intimate Italian place for lunch tomorrow, and we’ll take it from there. I’m not rushing anything with him, much as I might want to because I know that we’ll be together for a long time; maybe even forever.” 

“ Christ H, If that had come out of anyone else’s mouth but yours, I would’ve said it sounds insane, seeing that you’ve only met him five minutes ago. But since it’s you; I guess it’s within the bounds of possibility.” Niall says with a wink, clapping Harry on the back.

Zayn shifts in his seat, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with what he is about to ask. He hates having to do this, but if he is to realise his plan, he has to swallow his stupid pride. 

“Harry, I need your help.” 

Harry, who has been checking his notifications, whips his head up and drops the phone on the table, without awarding it another glance.

“Anything...what do you need?” he asks, looking a little worried. 

“I’m trying to organise a date with Liam, and I want to buy something online for that, and I’m skint, but I have a decent chance to get that new job and I can pay you back then and….”

“Woah, Zaynie, slow down. I can see what it means to you, and I don’t care when you pay me back.” Harry leans forward, cupping Zayn’s cheeks. “How much do you need?” he asks when he is satisfied that Zayn has caught his breath. 

“Wait...hang on a mo...did you say a date with Liam?” Niall interrupts, leaning forward over the table. “You sure? He didn't look like having a date with you is top of his agenda. In fact, he looked royally pissed off.”

“I have to try.” Zayn shrugs helplessly because he really has no idea if he can win Liam over after this latest setback.

Harry twists towards Niall, motioning him to be quiet before turning back to Zayn.

“So...how much? What’s the plan?”

“Dunno...maybe fifty?” It pains Zayn to take advantage of Harry’s benevolent nature like this.

“Fifty quid?” Harry feigns incredulity. “That won’t even be enough for a decent bottle of bubbly, not to mention rose petals and fine food for a candlelit dinner back at his place. 

Zayn giggles inwardly at the thought of scattering rose petals anywhere in Liam’s immaculate flat. “I appreciate what you’re saying, but it’s not gonna be that kind of date. Fifty will be cool.”

“Well, in that case, take this and knock yourself out.” Harry rifles around in his wallet, handing over a bank card from Lloyd’s. “It’s my student finance account...should have sufficient funds in it for what you have planned; whatever that may be.”

Zayn wraps both arms tightly around Harry’s neck, pressing his lips to his temple because there is no way that words can adequately express how grateful he is to his friend.

“It’s getting too soppy around here, lads. What’s our next move?” Niall asks with an exasperated eye-roll.

“We should find a more hospitable place to drink and leave this delightful crowd to it,” Harry suggests.

“Now you’re talking,” Niall jumps up as if he had just waited for such a proposal. “This isn’t my scene, but they paid me, and money is money. My deflated ego will recover. I’m sure.” 

Zayn follows his mates out of the bar, vowing never to return. Both apprehension and joy simmer inside him at the thought of putting his plan into action. One thing is for sure though.

He is ready to trade in his single life for one that involves dating Liam.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait again guys. This one is a little longer to make up for it. Hope you like it :)

Liam

It’s only twenty to eleven on yet another sweltering day, and Liam is already fed up. When he arrived at the bank this morning and checked his emails, he found a message from Natasha. She wanted to let him know that she had transferred to a branch in Birmingham, where she has family and that she hopes to catch up with him soon. Louis had told him that they parted on civil terms but that Nat needed some space. Liam is sad to lose her as a valued colleague. 

The credit card agreements on his desk are still waiting to be signed before he can pass them to Shazma, the new apprentice, but his thoughts are all over the place, and none of them has anything to do with his work. All of his Sunday was spent doing menial tasks like shopping and hovering in an effort to distract himself from considering what could have been with Zayn. He still feels deep-seated embarrassment thinking about that conversation and that he gave him ‘not dating’ as a reason for not giving in to his desires. While there was some truth to that, because he really is not a fan of casual flings, he couldn’t face telling Zayn that he is scared of losing him if he takes his clothes off. The fact that he hasn’t heard from Zayn speaks volumes in his opinion, and his stomach is tied into knots at the idea that he might have put him off for good with his commitment demands. Also, he still can’t believe that he didn’t show any interest or compassion when Zayn opened up about being disowned by his family. What a shit move was that? 

His deliberations are interrupted by a commotion outside his office. Two seconds later, Shazma pops her head through the door. 

“Excuse me, Liam, there is a client of yours here. He says it’s urgent that he speaks to you and I’ve told him that you have no free appointment slots, but he is very persistent.” She throws a scornful look over her shoulder. 

“I’ll be really quick,” says a voice from behind her and Liam’s heart lurches. That is Zayn out there. Why is he here? Is he ok? Liam can feel a burning sensation spread from his neck to his cheeks as he tries desperately to prepare himself for the unexpected encounter with the man of his dreams. 

“It’s ok, Shazma, show him in. I can spare a few minutes.” 

The apprentice steps aside with an indignant sigh, clearly not happy with this irregularity. 

Zayn enters the small room, a crooked smile creasing his beautiful face. Liam motions him to take a seat on the very chair that he sat on the first time he came to Liam’s office, but his demeanour is in stark contrast to the last time he was here. He is perched on the edge of the seat, nervously wringing his hands. 

“Everything alright, Zayn?” Liam ventures. The man in front of him seems apprehensive rather than upset. 

“I’m here to ask you for a second chance at a first impression,” Zayn says softly.

Liam’s heart does a little somersault. Zayn looks so sincere, and right now he can’t think of a single reason why he would turn down anything that he is asking for. 

“Are you free on Saturday?” 

Liam can only stare. 

“I want to ask you if you would like to come out on a date with me.” Zayn flutters his eyelashes. “I know what you might think, but I don’t have any ulterior motives. I want nothing from you but your company for the day and I want you to know that I hope it will be the first of many - but seriously, no strings attached.”

It all comes out kind of fast, and Zayn doesn’t appear to notice when Liam throws in, “Yes.”

“Please, just consider...wait...yes?”

Liam nods and Zayn rewards him with a blinding smile. 

“What do you have in mind?”

Zayn leans forward in his seat. “Have you ever been to Comic Con?”

“Um...no...I can never find anyone to go with, but I’ve always wanted to go.”

“Does that mean you’re interested?”

“Hell yeah...but um...will I need a costume or do a lot of people go in normal clothes?”

“You can wear what you want; be who you wanna be,” Zayn assures him. “That’s why I love going there; nobody gives a shit how you look or what you’re into.”

Liam is having a hard time containing his excitement. “Are there tickets available?” 

“You haven’t been listening,” Zayn chides, his voice tinged with faux annoyance. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a couple of sheets of computer paper. He hands one of them over to Liam, leaving the second one on his lap. “I said that I want to take you on a date and that there is your entrance ticket. The priority ones were sold out, so we can’t get in until eleven when the queues will be horrendous. Fancy meeting me outside the main entrance say 12ish? Things should have calmed down by then.”

Liam nods vigorously in agreement. He can’t speak because then he might blurt out that he fancies all kinds of things involving Zayn, which would lead to mega awkward complications that he is not ready to deal with. 

Luckily, Zayn doesn’t seem to want an actual answer. He picks up the other paper, dangling it tantalisingly over the desk. “This is something else that might excite you.”

Liam takes the printout, unsure how he could possibly be any more excited than he already is. He scans the page and finds that he was wrong. After reading the content three times, in case he misunderstood, he clutches the paper to his chest, grinning stupidly at the man sitting opposite. 

“Well?” Zayn prompts him.

“I’m seriously gobsmacked Zayn. An in person autograph from Stan Lee? I get to see him and speak to him?”

Zayn gives him an amused grin. “Yep, you are lucky; he doesn’t do many cons now and definitely doesn’t appear at events in Europe very often.” 

“But how did you know?” Liam is still mildly bewildered.

“That you’re a Marvel fan? Oh, come on Liam. I’ve been to your place enough times to have noticed the neatly stacked DVDs by your telly and the even more neatly displayed figurines in that glass cabinet in the corner by the window.” 

“Now you’re taking the piss,” Liam huffs, pushing his bottom lip out into an expert pout. 

Zayn lets out a mischievous giggle. “Stop pouting at your customer like that or said customer is going to have to do something about that.” 

Resolving that a threat like that can only mean activities that are inappropriate for his workplace, Liam schools his features back to a semi-professional expression, even though he can’t altogether get rid of the exuberant glow that fills his soul and probably shows clearly on his face. 

Zayn gets up from his seat, thus saving Liam from having to answer.

“Toodles then. I’ll see you on Saturday,” he says, wiggling his fingers and sporting his trademark smirk that is on this occasion satisfied rather than contemptuous. 

Liam breathes a happy “Bye”, certain that he will remain largely unproductive today, albeit now for very different reasons. 

 

Zayn

On the day, the punishing heat is accompanied by a suffocating humidity. Zayn is standing at the bottom of the steps to the Excel, looking around for some shade but the nearest group of trees is a fair distance away, and he really doesn’t want to miss Liam. How all those people, who are walking around in heavy costumes and carrying huge props are getting by, is anyone’s guess when Zayn’s Marvel print baseball shirt is sticking to his skin with him just standing there. Clusters of cosplayers are everywhere, making it difficult to search for Liam. He wouldn’t have changed his mind; would he? Maybe he decided that they weren’t suited after all? Zayn feels jittery at the thought. But no, he would not just stay away without a message. So now Zayn assumes that he knows what Liam would and wouldn’t do? How did he arrive at this point? Before he can dig himself an even bigger hole of doubt, he spots who he is looking for. Liam comes towards him in a slightly oversized Batman shirt and a curling warm feeling bursts through Zayn’s body, which tells him that this date signals the end of his deliberate attempt to keep Liam out of his life.

“Right...I’m here,” Liam announces cheerily when he gets to where Zayn is waiting. 

“Good. We need to go all the way ‘round to the back...let’s go.”

They make their way to the rear of the venue and join the stream of attendees waiting to have a great day. The first hall of the exhibition centre is brimming with people.

Literally every five seconds, Liam’s points out someone in a costume. “Look Zayn...that’s Thor over there, and that guy’s Wonder Woman outfit is amazing. Next time we come, we should dress up as well.”

Liam’s behaviour is entirely too cute for words and the ‘we’ in his remark isn’t lost on Zayn either. Little pockets of happiness bubble up everywhere in his body. 

They get ushered into the queue for Saturday only attendees, moving forward at an agonisingly slow speed. Zayn’s hand takes up a natural position on the small of Liam’s back, just so they don't get separated he tells Liam, but really it is so everyone knows that Liam is with him. He doesn't miss the appreciative glances coming their way from their fellow con-goers, but Liam seems to be oblivious. At long last, they reach the front, receive their wristbands and are finally free to embark on their brief escape from reality. 

The place is absolutely buzzing with so much to see from comics to movies, games to TV and art to collectables, spread over several large halls. Zayn likes to think of it as Nerd HQ. The Excel is filled to capacity with fans representing literally every fandom anyone could conceivably think of. Zayn can’t get enough of watching Liam flit from stall to stall, marvelling at every piece of memorabilia on show. When it is eventually time to head for the signing area, it is not easy to coax Liam away from a folder containing a collection of beautifully sketched Justice League characters and in the end, Zayn resorts to just grabbing his hand and resolutely leading him away from the temptations. 

“We need to get in line. Otherwise, you’re dream of meeting Stan is over.”

Liam blushes profusely but follows him, squeezing his hand tighter as they reach the heavily congested space surrounding the autograph tables. Even though they have an allocated slot, it takes almost an hour before they reach the front of the queue. They spend the time casually chatting and people watching, but the minute Liam catches sight of Stan Lee, he begins to hop from one foot to the other, talking a mile a minute. He hasn’t let go of Zayn’s hand at all, and at one point, when Zayn tripped backwards over someone's trailing veil, Liam pulled him back, tightening his arms around him as he stumbled against Liam’s chest. Zayn wouldn’t have minded if they had stayed like that forever. Unfortunately, and before he knows it, they are standing in front the signing table. The comic legend, who co-created superheroes such as Spiderman and Hulk, smiles and extends his hand towards Liam who is rooted to the spot. 

“Um...hi, Sir...I’m...I’m such an admirer of yours,” Liam beams, seizing the man’s hand, shaking it vigorously. “It’s an honour to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Stan smiles and Zayn can’t believe that despite the grand old age of 94, the guy is still willing and able to interact with his adoring fans. 

“Anything for me to sign?” he asks, uncapping a Sharpie. 

Liam hands him his phone, a stupid grin on his face.

“What’s your name, son?”

Liam is still grinning, seemingly incapable of responding.

“His name’s Liam,” Zayn intervenes. He can sense the growing impatience of the crowd behind them, and he doesn’t want Liam’s celebrity encounter to be spoilt by some rude comments.

Stan proceeds to write on the back of the phone. However, instead of returning it to its owner, he passes it to the middle-aged woman sitting next to him. Her bright blue t-shirt identifies her as a crew member.

“Let’s have a photo as a memento,” Stan suggests, emerging from behind the desk, beckoning Liam to come closer.

“Do you want your boyfriend to be in it as well?” the assistant asks.

“Uh...yeah...that’d be great...but we’re not -” Liam stammers. 

Faced with the real possibility of a riot from the fans in the queue, Zayn gently shoves Liam towards Stan and takes his place on the other side of the star. The assistant flashes Zayn a knowing look when she passes the phone to him after taking a few quick pictures. Evidently, she doesn’t judge Liam to be in full control of his body.

Zayn takes the phone, clasps Liam’s arm and hurries him through the throng of people and out onto the forecourt, where there are various eateries to choose from. 

“What did he write?” Liam takes the phone from Zayn. He scans the message, looking like he is about to combust. “Read it Zayn...READ IT.”

Zayn does as he is told. 

‘To my friend Liam  
Stan Lee’

“That’s sick,” Zayn agrees. They spend another couple of minutes swooning over the photos and then Liam suggests that they get something to eat. 

“Hey, this is me taking you on a date, remember? So, how about we get out of here and find somewhere a little quieter to have our food?” Zayn might be skint, but he can’t ask Liam on a date and then offer him a greasy burger.

“You’ve done so much for me already,” Liam says, smiling that smile that does crazy things to Zayn’s insides.

He should probably refrain from doing what he would like to do right now. From squishing Liam’s flushed face, covering it in sloppy kisses. From losing himself in his beautiful eyes. From telling him that he would be prepared to give him his soul, should he ask for it. That realisation actually hits him like an express train, but seeing that they are standing among thousands of people and this is not the time, he decides on the sarcastic approach to rid himself of the avalanche of feelings washing over him. 

“I’ve only brought you here, so I can amuse myself watching you squirm and stutter,” he says, albeit with a cheeky grin.

Liam scoffs, tucks his phone away and wipes his forehead with his sleeve. “Ok, so maybe we should freshen up first. My place is a lot closer than yours. I could lend you a shirt.”

Zayn doubts that any of Liam’s shirts will fit him but nods anyway. They make their way out of the building and to the railway station. Black clouds hanging over the rooftops have replaced the glaring sunshine. Zayn prays that this means the end of the crippling heatwave. On the train, they dissect and relive every detail of the day, making the twenty-minute journey to Liam’s part of the city feel more like five. 

Just as they emerge from the underground tunnel, the first raindrops start falling, accompanied by the low rumble of thunder. 

“Get a move on or we’re gonna get soaked.” Liam tugs at Zayn’s shirt before sprinting off.

But Zayn is made out of sterner stuff, and it would take a bit more than a little rain to convince him that running is a good idea. Instead, he takes the opportunity to have a smoke, strolling the short distance to the apartment building that he knows so well. Liam is waiting for him at the entrance, shaking his head in mock exasperation as he watches him putting out his cigarette. The second Zayn steps inside, the heavens open. It looks like the weather has turned, and with it Zayn’s resolve not to fall in love with anyone - ever. 

Liam teases him all the way to his front door, ribbing him about his the lack of sporting prowess while Zayn tries to swat the key out of Liam’s hand but doesn’t even come close to succeeding because Lim holds him at arm’s length, which Zayn finds all sorts of hot. Giggling and spluttering, they burst into the flat.

“You can have the main bathroom; I’ll take the en-suite...towels are this way,” Liam says, motioning Zayn to follow. 

He leads him to a door at the back of the living area. Turns out that the room is Liam’s simply amazing bedroom. The bed with its black leather frame and headboard is easily the biggest one Zayn has ever seen. It faces a huge, wall-mounted TV, which is surrounded by an extensive collection of video games. One of the walls is covered with a floor to ceiling bookcase, containing row after row of DVDs.“I see why you think that my room is a tad cramped,” Zayn remarks.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Liam says, disappearing through a door that presumably leads to the en-suite. 

“You’re doing that apologising thing again. My room is a dump, and your flat is stunning. It’s not offensive; it’s a fact.” The last words come out slightly muffled as Zayn pulls his shirt over his head, glad to be out of the sticky garment.

Liam emerges with a folded towel. His smile dies on his lips when he sees Zayn without his top on.  
“I...um...I can put that through the wash for you,” he offers, holding the towel out in front of him. He looks adorable with his hair matted to his forehead and a faint blush colouring his cheeks.

Afterwards, Zayn can’t quite recall why doing things without engaging his brain is such a common occurrence for him nowadays, but in any case, he takes a few strides forward, grabs the towel, and drops it to the floor right next to his shirt. Without giving him a warning, he tugs Liam close; their chests pressed together. His other hand finds the curve of Liam’s ass. He presses his mouth to Liam’s in a kind of desperate way. Liam responds immediately; letting him in to explore his mouth in a more urgent fashion compared to their previous kisses. Liam is not pushing him away, and he takes that as an invitation to keep on going. Liam’s hands roam over Zayn’s exposed skin. He gently caresses his shoulders, his back, his hips and his touch is intoxicating. Zayn can feel Liam’s erection rub against his own. Maybe this is the moment? Maybe Liam is able to let them take things a little further? 

The answer to that comes seconds later when Zayn impatiently tries to yank Liam’s shirt off. Liam stills; his whole body tenses. Shit Shit Shit. Amongst his lust fuelled thoughts, Zayn manages to remember that he promised not to have an agenda and not to put any pressure on Liam. He draws back slowly, afraid that he might have done irreparable damage to their burgeoning romance, but Liam just looks defeated, keeping his gaze lowered.

“Liam...I -” Zayn scrambles for something appropriate to say.

Liam slumps down on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands. “S’ok, you didn't do anything wrong. It’s me...my body-” he says, his voice flat. 

And this is it for Zayn. He is going to find out what’s going on and so he sits next to him, leaving a big enough space to ensure that Liam is comfortable.

“Who fucked with your head like this?” he asks bluntly.

There is no answer for a long while, and Zayn is just about to lose hope when Liam reaches into a drawer of his nightstand and pulls out a framed photo which he passes to Zayn without a word and without looking at him. 

Zayn studies it carefully, trying to process what he sees. The picture shows Liam and another man in a gym. The guy is quite tall and has longish blond hair. Puffy veined biceps protrude from his lycra top, and his toothy grin is almost comical. And then there is Liam.

“Your ex-boyfriend?” Zayn asks, his tone perhaps a bit too sharp.

“Fiancee actually; we lived here together. He was new in London, still sorting himself out and there was no point for him to pay for a place as well.”

“Really? Wow…” Zayn struggles to tear himself away from the image in front of him. 

“I know right?He looks great, doesn’t he? He said that he couldn’t be with a guy who isn’t in shape and that he’d help me with that and I guess that’s why he left me in the middle of the night without a word. I tried so hard Zayn, I really did, but sometimes I was just so hungry and-”

“Stop it! You look terrible, Liam; can’t you see that? Your eyes are dull, and your cheeks are sunken in.” Zayn feels hot anger rising inside him. “This fucking prick used you.”

“No, he said he loved me, and he asked me to marry him, and he only wanted what’s best, and we would have the rest of our lives together,” Liam protests, vehemently shaking his head. The anguish on his face is hard for Zayn to stomach. 

He doesn’t want to make Liam feel worse, but he also wants to make him understand that his relationship was built on manipulation and deception.

“He never loved you.”

“So why did he say it? Why did he get engaged to me?” Liam doesn’t look convinced.

Zayn puts his hands lightly on Liam’s shoulder. “He tapped into your need for commitment. He wanted to fuck you because you’re a gorgeous man and he wanted you to provide for him, but above all, he got off on the power he had over you. I wish I could wring that bastard’s neck.”

“But he said-”

Zayn puts his index finger on Liam’s lips. “ Please, think about something that Harry once told me about. Imagine that you never heard anything he ever said to you. Judge him only by the things he has done for you and then tell me if you still think that he loved you.”

Liam looks at him with sad eyes, but the corners of his mouth turn upwards in a tiny smile.

“You’re right. I am so stupid and naive to let it affect me still. I want to be with you Zayn, honestly, but I need a little time. I understand if you want to call it a day.” 

“Don’t be such a plonker. Old hurts are not so easy to leave behind. I want to be with you too...you, Liam, the person...got it? And to be honest, I’m hardly the authority on relationships, seeing that I’ve never properly been in one.”

“You’ve never been in a relationship?” Liam pulls a face like he doesn’t believe him. 

“Nah, I normally try and keep things casual with zero emotional involvement.”

“But you’re gorgeous, super cool, highly intelligent and quite nice when you want to be. I don’t understand.”

“Keep it coming...I’m listening.” Zayn throws Liam a fond glance before he adds quietly, “there’s only so much rejection a person can take.” 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

“No, churning over one set of problems is enough for one day. But I am starving, and what about that shirt you were gonna lend me?” Zayn says, not so subtly steering the conversation in a more lighthearted direction.

“To be honest, I don’t feel much like going to a restaurant now. We could order in and then watch a movie.” Liam proposes.

“Fine by me. Let’s get a shower and then some food; anything but pizza if you don’t mind.” Zayn plucks the towel off the floor and heads for the bathroom. 

The next few hours fly by as far as Zayn is concerned. While devouring their Indian takeaway, they talk about Liam’s family who sounds like something out of a novel to Zayn. He just can’t imagine parents who are one hundred percent supportive of their child, but Liam so deserves that and Zayn is truly happy for him. Zayn tells him that his friends are now his family and that he couldn’t ask for better or more loyal ones. He helps Liam to clear away the empty trays and used cutlery after their dinner only to receive a lecture on recycling, and he finds that he doesn’t mind that. Liam is just too endearing when he talks about landfill rubbish and compost. 

Clad in jogging bottoms and hoodies, they nestle down next to each other on that humongous bed, and after some friendly bickering about which is the best series in the Marvel universe, they decide on watching all three of the Captain America movies. Nothing is weird, and nothing is uncomfortable as they scoot closer with every film until Zayn’s head is resting on Liam’s shoulder while Liam has one arm around his waist and one leg across his lap.

It’s not until the closing credits of Captain America: Civil War roll across the screen, that Zayn remembers that he actually lives in a dreary hostel which he has to return to in the all too near future.

He reluctantly pushes Liam’s leg away and rises slowly from the bed.

“I better be going. It’s late, and the interview with Mr Sheeran is on Monday. I should probably prepare myself a little.”

“You’re gonna ace that,” Liam says, following Zayn off the bed before moving over to the window and taking a peek through the curtains.

“It’s still coming down in buckets out there,” he says, frowning. “You want me to take you?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. The tube station isn’t that far, and a little rain’s not gonna kill me.”

“Or…” Liam starts and then stops himself until he has taken a deep breath. “Or you could stay...if you want, and I can drive you early tomorrow, and by then your clothes will be ready.”

Zayn wants. He wants to stay so badly, but he doesn’t know if it’s the right thing to do. On the other hand, Liam made the suggestion so he must think it’s ok.” 

“Maybe I could kip on the sofa,” he offers, thinking how much more comfortable than his own bed that piece of furniture is.

“I can’t let you do that. How would you feel about sleeping in this bed with me? I mean just sleeping obviously, not you know…” Liam rambles and blushes for what must be the tenth time today.

“I'd like that,” Zayn says. Because as much as he loves to see Liam in a tizzy, he also doesn’t want things to get awkward. 

He climbs back into the bed and this time under the duvet which is light, fluffy and irresistibly soft. Liam turns off the light and joins him. For a while, neither of them speak. Zayn is slightly overwhelmed by this room and this bed, never mind the fact that the man he desires is right next to him. There is no noise coming from anywhere in the building, and no flickering neon lights shine through the window. This place is heaven. 

“Tell me what you’re favourite part of today was,” he says, once he finds his voice again. “I’m guessing the photo or the autograph or talking to Stan?”

“None of those.”

“None? What was it then? I thought you loved meeting him.”

“I did, but it wasn’t my favourite part.”

“Well, are you gonna tell me?” Zayn props himself up on his elbow and faces Liam, even though it is too dark to make out his face. 

“I’d rather not…you’ll laugh at me.”

“Promise I won’t. Pizza delivery guy’s honour,” Zayn says, and he means it.

Liam sighs heavily. “Ok then, you know when Stan’s assistant called you my boyfriend? And you didn’t correct her? That was my favourite part because I could just pretend for a moment that you really belonged to me. So there...happy now?”

Zayn is thankful for the darkness which hides the tears that are pooling in his eyes. Liam wants him to be his boyfriend, and his heart is in danger of overflowing.

“Liam, I would very much like to belong to you. And about your fears and all that...let’s just take it one day at a time, yeah?” 

In lieu of an answer, Liam searches for Zayn’s face and kisses him softly.

“I can’t believe I ever thought you were a dick,” he says, and they both burst out laughing.

Zayn shuffles over, nestling himself against Liam who wraps his arm around him.

“Goodnight, Zayn.”

“Goodnight, boyfriend.”

Liam drops off to sleep virtually straight away, but Zayn’s thoughts are still racing. He has fallen hook, line and sinker for Liam without having seen him naked and without sex. He is surprised to find that it doesn’t matter. The old Zayn would have objected to ‘buying the cat in the bag’, but that has all changed. His blossoming love for Liam is surging through Zayn’s body, masking another feeling that is deep within him. It takes him a while to figure out what that feeling is and when he does, he lets out a content little sigh before closing his eyes.

For the first time in a very long time, Zayn feels safe.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys : I know, I know its been too long but here is the next chapter anyway. Let me know if you like it xx

Liam

“So, Tommo, what brings you here on this fine Friday morning before either of us has even been to work?”

Liam is not particularly fond of entertaining uninvited guests at the crack of dawn, but Louis rapped on his door a couple of minutes ago, and now they are facing each other across the breakfast bar, in their respective suits, sipping their steaming coffees out of Iron Man mugs. 

Louis wriggles about on his seat, grinning from ear to ear, seemingly bursting at the seams with some juicy bit of news, and so Liam nods at him encouragingly. 

“I need to fill you in on my plans for the weekend and tell you that I’ve only gone and done it,” Louis says, his cheeks turning pink. 

“Done what?” Liam has to marvel yet again at Louis’ extraordinary knack for showing up at highly unsuitable times and then only delivering cryptic statements.

Louis pushes his mug to one side and leans forward, crossing his arms on the counter. “The full man on man sex thing...you know what I mean, and it was amazing. Harry was so...so gentle and do you know what Harry says? Louis doesn’t wait for a response. “Harry says, that a lot of men in gay relationships don’t even like penetration. Did you know that?”

“Yes, I knew that,” Liam says with a sigh. If he had a pound for every time, Louis utters the words ‘Harry said’ nowadays, his financial future would be secure.

“But you like it, don’t you?”

“Louis...honestly...I can’t-”

“Oh, come on Payno...you do, don’t you?”

Liam throws his hands up in an I-give-up gesture. “Ok, fine...yes I like it,” he groans.

“And Zayn?” Louis asks, pulling back a little.

“I don’t think you and I have to share every intimate detail with each other,” Liam states categorically, starting to rise from his stool.

Louis’ face falls at that. “Don’t be mad. It’s just that I can’t exactly gush about Harry to Harry. My mates from work wouldn’t understand and Niall and Zayn; they are great guys, but I don’t know them well enough yet,” he says, raking his fingers through his hair. “But you Liam; you are my best friend,” he adds quietly. 

And that makes Liam sit right back down again. He reaches across to squeeze Louis’ hand. “I’m dead chuffed for you and Harry. You two deserve the world, but things are a bit more complicated with Zayn and me.”

Louis pinches his eyebrows together, his expression changing to concerned. “You’re good together, though; aren’t you? Everything is alright?”

“Yes, don’t worry. We’re taking it easy is all.” 

Liam is really not up for a discussion on the state of his love life. Not that there would be much to discuss anyway, although the last two months have been magical. Zayn is in his life pretty much every day, spending time with him whenever his studies and their jobs allow. There has never been any awkwardness between them, never a shortage of things to talk about. Zayn tends to stay over at the weekends but still hasn’t seen Liam naked, and even though Zayn hasn’t been pressing him for more, Liam’s unease is growing by the day. Passionate fumbling under the blankets and with the lights out lead to a few messy hand jobs, but other than that, they have been restricting themselves to kissing and cuddling. He is not normally a pessimist, but he can’t imagine how this level of happiness can possibly last much longer with things being as they are. 

“Hey Li...you with me?” Louis’ words seem to come from far away.

“Yeah, sorry...tell me about your grand plans.” His coffee has gone cold, but Liam takes a long sip anyway, hoping that it will help him to stop this no good train of thought.

Louis needs no further encouragement. “Remember me and Haz visited his mum in Cheshire last week? Well, it went swimmingly. She’s a great woman; kind, funny gorgeous...almost as if she was related to Harry.” Louis giggles at his own joke. “So, this weekend, I’m gonna take him to meet my family. I can’t imagine that anyone wouldn’t fall in love with him, but I’m still hella nervous.”

“You have nothing to worry about. They’re gonna adore him...guaranteed.” Liam says earnestly.

“Hope you’re right because I’ve no idea what I’d do if they don’t. I love him so much…” Louis’ voice trails off.

Liam sips the last of his coffee, keeping in his mouth for a second before swallowing. “How do you know? That you love him, I mean,” he asks.

Louis smiles wistfully. “Good question,” he says, putting his mug to his lips and after setting it back down on the counter, he adds, “I guess, it’s the way he is ever present in my head and in my heart. He is the first and the last thing I think about each day.”

Liam turns that over in his mind, examining the words carefully. “Don’t you have any doubts?”

Louis doesn’t even have to think about that. “No, cause when I’m with him, nothing else matters, and when I’m not with him, that feeling gets even stronger. Granted it sounds a tad mushy, but it’s the god's honest truth.” Grabbing his briefcase from the stool next to him, Louis gets to his feet and goes over to pull Liam into a sideways hug “I’m gonna have to get going, Payno. My client is in Guildford, and I better shoot off, before all hell breaks loose on the good ol’ A25. Thanks a million for listening to my ramblings, mate,” he says squeezing Liam once more.

“Always available to lend an ear, Lou, and best of luck for the meeting with the family,” Liam says, showing Louis out, smiling at his retreating figure.

Louis gives him a wave and then when he’s already halfway down the corridor, he calls over his shoulder, ”It doesn’t have to be complicated you know.”

Liam goes to tidy the mugs away, thinking about Louis’ parting comment and he comes to the conclusion that his friend is right. Everything about his relationship with Zayn is amazing, except that one thing. And that one thing can be attributed to Liam, and only to Liam. After just over eight weeks, he is still the one who refuses to give Zayn what he must be desperate for by now. Liam has absolutely no reason not to give it to him or at least work towards it. He just has to make more of an effort. The thought has barely entered his head when he makes the decision. 

He is going to create a magical evening for Zayn, and then, if all goes well, he will show him what he really means to him. Because Liam has to work frequently on Saturdays, they tend to stay in on Friday nights, watching movies. Zayn usually picks up a takeaway on his way over after uni, but today he will tell that he's cooking. Liam washes the mugs, wipes the top of the breakfast bar and pushes the stools under, all while he mentally plans his menu and the route to the shops he will have to visit for the ingredients. If he were here, Louis would call him out on his anally retentive tendencies. Liam smiles at that. 

Casting a final glance over his now spotless kitchen, he plucks his car keys from the bowl on the coffee table and leaves for the bank, accompanied by an excited flutter when he thinks about the evening ahead.

Zayn

Zayn is in an exceptionally good mood as he leaves the auditorium after his last class of the week. It’s Friday afternoon, he is just coming out of a lecture on 19th-century poetry where the professor actually kept him focused, and he is looking forward to a cosy evening in with Liam. In addition to that, he has received an email from Mr Sheeran, informing him that he has successfully completed his probationary period and is now a fully fledged part-time editor at the company. He loves working on the scripts so much that he sometimes doesn’t even consider it to be a job.

However, the engaging lecture is the reason he hasn’t checked his phone for the last two hours, and he regrets it as soon as he presses the home button, his good mood evaporating into thin air. He finds that he has twelve missed calls and five messages from Niall, all of which read ‘answer your fucking phone’. Niall is not someone who creates unnecessary drama, so this can mean nothing good. Zayn makes his way to the toilets where it’s quieter and hits Niall’s name in his contacts. He answers on the first ring.

“For fuck’s sake, Zayn. I’ve been calling you for ages. Where have you been?” he barks and without giving Zayn a chance to say anything, he continues,” You have to come home, like now. It’s Dix, she’s in a right state.”

“What’s wrong?” Zayn asks, his stomach clenching. 

“I don’t know; she won’t say. Just get your ass over here, she wants you,” Niall urges before hanging up.

Zayn pockets his phone, rushing out of the building to the tube station. All kinds of horror scenarios flit through his mind. Is Dixie injured or sick? He could happily strangle Niall for not giving him any useful details. Lady luck seems to be on his side though, because every one of the three trains he has to take is pulling into the station just as he gets to the platform, and so he arrives at the hostel in record time. He practically flies up the stairs and down the corridor to Dixie’s room. Niall yanks the door open before he can knock. 

“Thank fuck, you’re here,” he says, visibly relieved to see his friend. Zayn rushes past him into the room. Dixie is lying in a crumpled heap on her bed. Her shaking body and the way her arms are covering her face aren’t encouraging.

“I came to ask if I could borrow some detergent and heard her cry through the door,” Niall explains. “No idea what happened. She babbled some stuff, but it didn’t make a lot of sense, to be honest.”

“It’s alright, Ni. Thanks for letting me know; I’ve got it from here,” Zayn says, giving Niall a pat on the shoulder, nudging him gently out of the room. 

When he sits down on Dixie’s bed, she immediately shuffles over burying her head in his lap. The sobs come in waves, interrupted by ragged breaths. He strokes her back soothingly, not saying a word, letting her decide if and when she is ready to talk. 

He has always liked her place. It is filled with vibrant colours, from the framed art prints on the walls to the flower print curtains and duvet cover. Dixie is a dab hand at creating things with textiles, which accounts for the sewing machine that takes up most of her desk space, surrounded by several rolls of fabric. Zayn had always thought that she should turn her talent into a career. 

Some time later, she stops crying, lifting her head to look at Zayn. Her mascara has left black lines under her red, swollen eyes. She’s the picture of devastation and only now does Zayn notice what she is wearing. He distinctly remembers the day when she showed this outfit to him. The figure-hugging halter top dress, which is embellished with beautiful sequins, was her pride and joy; she was so proud of her work. “I am reserving it for a special occasion,” she said. So, why did she choose to wear it today? At four o’clock in the afternoon? And on an unusually cold one for late June at that?

Zayn shifts position, cradling her against his chest, rocking her tenderly. “What happened?” he asks. 

“It’s Lauren,” she croaks, and it looks for a moment like she is going to cry again, but then she sits up, still clutching his t-shirt. 

Zayn thought as much but didn’t want to jump to premature conclusions. “Did you two break up?”

“That as well,” she says quietly, pushing a few curls from her tear streaked face. “It was all a lie, Zaynie. Everything. I feel so humiliated, so stupid.”

“What do you mean?”

Dixie takes a deep breath, folding her hands in her lap. “This whole time, she was grooming me to be an escort for rich guys.”

Zayn gasps, his eyes going wide with horror. ”The fucking bitch,” is all he can come up with. 

She looks down at her hands, then back up at Zayn. “Lauren said she had a surprise for me today and to dress nicely. I was wondering where I would be going in this getup in the afternoon, but I didn’t want to spoil the surprise. When we got there, it turned out to be a party for a group of businessmen. I wanted to leave straight away...and then...then,” Dixie breaks off, swallowing down a sob. 

Zayn pulls her close again, wrapping his arms around her. “Did anyone hurt you?” he asks, his heart racing. 

She shakes her head. “No, not really. Lauren’s boyfriend grabbed me by the arm, nothing else.”

“Lauren’s boyfriend? What the fuck?”

Dixie huffs out a humourless laugh. “Yeah, I know. Sounds mad, right? She had a boyfriend all along, and they said that I have to start repaying the money she spent on me.”

“I’m so glad you got away unharmed,” Zayn says softly, trying very hard not to let her see how furious he is. 

“I guess so,” Dixie says, attempting a smile. “But I also don’t have a job anymore. I can’t go back to the bar. I don’t know what to do. If only I had listened to you.” She slings her arms around Zayn’s neck, letting the tears fall freely again. 

“Hey, shhh….we’ll figure something out,” he coos, wishing that his gut feeling was less reliable. “For starters, do you want to report this?”

“Do you think I should?” she asks, straightening herself. 

“I think you should, but it’s obviously your decision.”

“I think you’re right. I can’t let this happen to some other girl.” Dixie says before plucking a tissue from a box next to her and blowing her nose. 

“Tomorrow, we’ll go to the police,“ Zayn reassures her, “and then, on Monday, we will look for a new job for you. You have plenty of hospitality experience and I can’t see a problem finding something...in the meantime, between me, Haz and Nialler, we got you covered.”

“I can’t believe that I’ve ever doubted you. I’m sorry, I don’t deserve any of you.” Dixie wipes at her eyes.

“Don’t talk shit, babe. You deserve only the best,” Zayn says, smiling.

“Would you stay with me tonight?” she asks in barely a whisper. 

“Yeah...I’m just gonna pop to my room and get changed...be back in a sec.” Zayn plants a kiss on her hair before he heads for his own room. 

The realisation that he is meant to be at Liam’s this evening hits him midway through shrugging on some joggers and a sweatshirt. Shit! There’s no way he can go back on his word to Dixie, but at the same time, he can’t tell Liam what he is doing either. For all the closeness and intimacy that has developed between them, Dixie is one topic they avoid. Not awkwardly or anything, it just never comes up in conversation and the times when he and Liam had met up with the other lads, she had never tagged along. Liam would definitely want him to help a friend in need - if it were anyone other than Dixie. Zayn is fairly certain that he can’t tell Liam the real reason he can’t be with him this evening, and so he has to invent a lie. The thought of that causes a sour taste to rise in his mouth. If there is one thing he hates, it’s lying, and yet, here he is about to do just that, and to the person who means the most to him but he can’t see an alternative. Ignoring the rather loud alarm bell in the back of his head, he pulls his mobile from his jeans and contacts Liam.

When the call is over, Zayn can feel sweat trickling down between his shoulder blades and his mouth is dry. Liam’s disappointment was palpable through the phone but as expected, he was very understanding and didn’t press the issue, which made it ten times worse. 

As he walks back to Dixie, Zayn inhales slowly and deeply, trying to compose himself. There will be time tomorrow to sort things out and ease his guilty conscience, but for now, he needs to focus on her, and so he steps into the room with a bright smile on his lips.

Liam

Sometimes, Liam wishes he didn’t have to work every other Saturday, especially on a day like this when he has important plans. Due to a client with a tricky mortgage problem, he was delayed considerably, and now he is rushing around the flat trying to make it look perfect, even though a casual observer would say that there was nothing out of place to start off with. He was admittedly a little upset when Zayn rang yesterday to tell him that he had a last minute piece of editing to finish, but work is work, and luckily the ingredients Liam bought for dinner could easily be kept until today. 

Liam’s prayers that Zayn will keep to his usual habit of being late are not answered. He barely has time to take off his shoes and set the preheat timer on the oven before he hears the familiar knocking pattern on the door. 

“It’s open,” he shouts, his heartbeat picking up a pace like it always does when his boyfriend is around.

Zayn breezes into the flat, his mobile in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. He throws his phone on the sofa, handing the bottle over to Liam. 

“Hey,” he says, pecking Liam on the lips. “Man, what a day. I’ll fill you in after I’ve had a smoke.” With that he fishes his cigarettes and lighter out of the pocket of his leather jacket and goes back out, leaving the door on the latch. 

Liam hums to himself as he goes to put the wine into the fridge before heading to his bedroom to get changed. Standing in front of his the wardrobe and trying to decide what to wear, he hears the sound of a phone vibrating. He turns back, scanning the lounge for his mobile, which he finds on the sideboard, but there is no new notification. Thinking that he must have been mistaken, he slides the device into his suit jacket just as the buzzing returns. He follows the sound to the sofa and finds Zayn’s phone, displaying a single text message.  
Liam doesn’t want to look, he really doesn’t, but he can’t help himself. With an awful sense of foreboding, he picks up the mobile, catching the words seconds before the screen goes black.

Dix:  
‘Thank you for last night xx’

The phone drops out of his hand and clatters to the floor. Liam stands frozen, waiting for some kind of emotion to hit him. He is sure that he should be feeling something but his mind and body are just cold and numb while the colours around him fade to a dull grey. WHY - is the only thought hammering in his head. 

The ping of the timer chimes as if to mock him, startling him out of his stupor. Somehow, he manages to stalk to the kitchen and switch the oven off. There is no need for it now, no use for the food in the fridge or the present he had so lovingly picked out and wrapped just yesterday. 

He can hear Zayn’s approaching footsteps, and suddenly the apathy gives way to utter despair. Liam slumps down on the couch, his fists pressed against his eyes. His chest tight, he is struggling for air as he prays for the end of this nightmare.

But he doesn’t wake up. This is real, and it feels like the bottom has fallen out of Liam’s world, shattering into a million pieces in the process.


	13. Chapter 13

Liam

Liam sits frozen in the same spot when Zayn enters the room.

“Alright, I’m back. What’s the pl-” Zayn breaks off as he closes the door. “Liam? What’s wrong love? He asks, frowning. 

Liam can’t bear to look at him. “You have a message,” he says simply, kicking the device towards him. 

Zayn shrugs off his jacket before scooping his phone off the floor, his eyes scanning the screen. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath. 

“Shit, that you did it or shit that you got caught?” Liam asks with a toneless voice. 

Zayn walks over to stand in front of him. “If you just listen,” he says, putting one hand on Liam’s arm. 

Liam stands up, yanking his arm away. “Are you denying that you were with her last night?”

“No”

“Nothing else to say then, is there?”

Zayn takes a few steps back. “She was in trouble-” he starts, but Liam cuts him off.

“What was the emergency?” 

“S’not my place to say.”

“Oh...really? How convenient,” Liam scoffs as anger begins to burn low in his stomach. Exactly how gullible does Zayn think he is? He has been through this shit before, and he refuses to be made a fool of again.

“Can’t you just believe me when I tell you she needed me and nothing happened between us?” Zayn asks, almost pleading.

“Like I believed you yesterday when you told me you had to work?” Liam snaps, letting his annoyance seep into his words.

Zayn presses his fingers against his temples and squeezes his eyes shut. “I know what it must look like, but I can explain -”

Liam interrupts him, huffing out a humourless laugh. He can’t believe that Zayn is spinning him that old line. “Isn’t that what all liars say? he asks. “I really thought we could make it work; that I could trust you.”

“Jesus, Liam, I wish I were as perfect as you. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to never make a mistake.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying...I mean; I can’t even blame you for getting elsewhere what I’ve been refusing you.” Liam swallows hard. Why is he always doing this? Why does he shift the blame onto himself, instead of standing his ground?”

Zayn goes rigid, the colour draining from his face. “So, now I’m a cheat, a liar and shallow? Is that what you honestly think of me?”

“You leave me no choice,” Liam says through gritted teeth.

Something in Zayn’s demeanour changes, as he fixes Liam with a cold stare. “You know, I’m not surprised at all that your fiance decided to run for the hills. He probably couldn’t live up to your impossible expectations either...plus I suspect you quite enjoy your role as the victim.”

“Fuck you, Zayn.”

A sly smile plays on Zayn’s lips. “Fine, let’s do that then. Are you telling me a bit of provocation can persuade you where a thousand loving words and gestures couldn’t? Or are you promising without delivering as usual?” 

Zayn’s taunts bring back painful memories of John and his particular brand of callous insults. The way they gnawed at his self-worth, made him believe that he had to change to be loved. Every syllable cuts into Liam like a dagger, and there is nothing he can do to stop the proverbial red mist settling over him. 

After discarding his jacket, he loosens his tie, tossing it carelessly to one side. He can see Zayn tracking his movements, a contemptuous smirk on his face. The whole scene seems completely surreal to Liam as he watches Zayn watching him, like some kind of out of body experience. 

“You should be very careful what you say...don’t push me too far,” he growls. 

“Or what, Liam? What would be the consequence?” 

The contemptuous smirk on Zayn’s face makes his words even more demeaning. Liam clenches his fists, digging his nails into the flesh of his palms. If only he could stop and think; gather his thoughts and figure out how to react. But Zayn doesn’t grant him that chance.

“Come on then, come on,” he mocks.

And that’s all it takes to tip Liam over the edge. He couldn’t say which one of the emotions raging through him is the driving force when he lunges at Zayn, grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him into the nearest wall. The mist thickens into a red fog, making it impossible to keep track of his moral compass. Locking his fingers around Zayn’s waist, he crushes their lips together in a rough and hungry kiss. Not offering any resistance, Zayn lets out a strangled gasp before he becomes completely pliant against him, responding to his probing tongue. Liam thrusts himself between his legs, eagerly grinding his achingly hard dick against Zayns. His head is spinning with lust and frustration while anger and guilt sit like a lump in his throat, threatening to choke him. It’s a disturbing combination but he blots out any thought about what it is he is doing and drinks in the smell of the man in front of him.

Liam isn’t aware of Zayn tearing his shirt open until the buttons scatter to the floor. He freezes for a second, wincing as Zayn trails his fingers through his chest hair, the expression in his eyes a mixture of desire and smugness. He actually did cross that line, taking the choice of when to reveal himself away from Liam. It might as well have been a punch to the gut.

“You selfish bastard,” Liam spits.

“I figured since we’re having a break-up shag; playing nice is no longer required.” 

Liam’s cheeks burn at those words and a fresh wave of resentment engulfs him. He grasps the hem of Zayn’s soft, grey jumper and pulls it impatiently over his head. His mouth moves from Zayn’s jaw to his neck and down to his collarbone, leaving angry bitemarks in its wake. It registers somewhere among the haze that this is not him, that he might be punishing Zayn for the humiliations John inflicted on him and he has a vague idea that Zayn lashed out because of the events in his past he never talks about, but Liam can’t process this information right now; not when the urge to show that he’s done being a doormat is so overwhelming.

Determined to call the shots for once, he proceeds to undo Zayn’s jeans, pushing them down so they pool at his feet. With a smidgen of satisfaction, he sees that Zayn is equally as aroused and it drives him insane. He runs his hands greedily over Zayn’s body, pushing him hard against the wall. 

Completely wrapped up in his turmoil, he fails to notice that Zayn is not moving at all. It isn’t until he hears a muffled sob that he stops and makes eye contact for the first time since his common sense took a temporary leave of absence and what he sees brings him back to reality with a vengeance. Zayn’s eyes are shiny, his dark lashes brimming with tears.

It feels like somebody has emptied an ice-bucket over his head. Liam hastily puts some distance between them, his brain searching frantically for something to say but his mind is blank. 

Zayn wipes at his eyes with one hand while pulling up his jeans with the other. “So, you’ve changed your mind? I’m not even worth a farewell fuck?” 

Liam slowly shakes his head. “I can’t do it...it’s not right...not like this.”

Plucking his jacket from the sofa, Zayn turns, sniggering. “Oh, great, prim and proper Liam is back. In that case, I’m outta here...why don’t you just admit that you get off on your superior attitude?” he asks, rolling his eyes. 

“Don’t put this all on me, Zayn...you were crying.”

“Yeah right...don’t flatter yourself.” Zayn waves a dismissive hand, but a tiny flicker of uncertainty breaks through his otherwise stony expression. 

The room begins to sway slightly. Watching Zayn take the half-dozen steps to the door and not saying anything to prevent him from going takes the last of Liam’s resolve. He wraps his arms around his quaking chest, barely holding himself together as the door falls into the latch.

“Don’t leave…,” he whispers, but Zayn is already gone. 

Liam goes on wobbly knees to pick up the jumper, clutching it to his chest before he sinks to the floor in the same spot where he had Zayn pinned just a few moments ago. His weeping is stifled at first but in the end, the dam breaks, and hot tears fall onto Zayn's top, which serves as a reminder that Liam has managed to drive away the person he loves.

Love? Is that what’s tearing his insides apart? The undeniable answer to that is yes, and among the horrible confusion in his mind, it is the one thing he is certain about. He is in love with Zayn and as a result, he now knows that what he had felt for John had been infatuation, nothing more. 

Liam stays where he is until the well of his tears has run dry and only the stark reality that he is just not good enough remains.

Zayn

“I can’t fucking believe this. I leave town for all of five minutes, and everything here goes to shit.” Harry paces back and forth in his kitchen, raking his fingers through his unruly curls. 

“Don’t worry about it H; we can’t all be as lucky as you when it comes to everlasting love.”

Zayn is taken aback by his own cynicism. “Sorry Haz, I didn’t mean that. I couldn’t be more chuffed for you and Louis,” he says, truthfully.

Harry comes to a halt next to Zayn’s chair and pulls him up into a fierce hug. 

“Yeah, no worries babe, but you do get yourself into some crap situations,” he says. “And there is every reason for me to worry because you look like you don’t take proper care of yourself - again.”

“I keep telling him that,” Niall pipes up from where he’s perched on the counter. “A diet of Pringles and whiskey is not healthy...even I know that, but he refuses to eat something more substantial. As usual, my brilliant advice goes unnoticed.”

Zayn throws him a murderous look. 

This morning, Niall found him half-sloshed in his room, cosying up to a bottle of JD and has now taken it upon himself to sort him out. Zayn hasn’t slept more than a couple of hours, washed, done any work or consumed anything other than crisps, sugary drinks and alcohol since he’d left Liam’s place three days earlier. It’s stupid but he can’t find the motivation to look after himself just now, and he wishes everyone would just fuck off and leave him alone. But no such luck, because Niall had virtually dragged him under the shower before plying him with endless mugs of black coffee, and now they are all sat in Harry’s kitchen for some sort of crisis meeting. 

Harry releases his clinch and pushes Zayn back down on the chair. As the comforting arms retreat from Zayn’s body, he feels cold and even more miserable than before. 

Harry crosses his arms, exhaling heavily. “So, you’re saying that everything was absolutely fabulous until you had to come to Dixie’s rescue and decided to lie to Liam about it?”

“Yes...no...it’s not like that. Liam has a problem with my friendship with Dix, and also...there were misunderstandings, ” Zayn mumbles, listlessly twirling the piece of toast on the plate in front of him. He really isn’t in the mood for this. 

“Like I’ve told you mate, one day that arrangement between you and Dix is going to bite you in the ass and it seems that day is now,” Niall supplies.

“Don’t you think I know that?” 

Zayn slams his hands in front of his face. He can feel himself welling up, but crying would only prompt Harry and Niall to smother him more with their concern. Their meaningful glances are not as subtle as they think. He’s grateful for their affection, he really is, but at this precise moment, he just wants to surrender to the waves of loss that are flooding his heart. 

“Come on, Zayn,” Niall coos, ”at least have some of your toast. Look at it, lying there all lonely and sad.”

“Nice bit of pathetic fallacy, Niall,” Zayn says with a smirk. "Didn't know you had it in you." 

“What?”

“Never mind.” Zayn bites back a scathing comment. 

Niall appears oblivious to Zayn’s derision as he furrows his brows for a second, then shrugs. 

“But you actually did nothing wrong. Dix was desperate for your help and you couldn’t possibly leave her on her own. I can vouch for that.”

“I lied to him, Ni.” Zayn puts his elbows on the table, resting his chin in his hands. “I should have known my venture into the world of romance wouldn’t end well. It was only a matter of time before this relationship imploded anyway. Who was I trying to kid? Liam deserves so much more than me.”

“Don’t let anyone tell you that you don’t deserve what you want,” Harry says, patting Zayn’s thigh consolingly.

Zayn lets out a humourless laugh. “I’m toxic, Haz, and everyone knows it. Liam said I was selfish. Shall I tell you who else said that? My mother, my father and even Dix. They can’t all be wrong, can they?”

Harry shakes his head vehemently. “I know you better than most, and I can tell you that you’re a lot of things like irritable, anti-social and bloody-minded, but selfish you are not. You’re a good guy, Zaynie. Just because other people don’t agree with the way you live your life, doesn’t make your choices wrong...and when I say other people, I absolutely include your parents.”

“Cosigned,” Niall chimes in.

“You need to go and see him,” Harry tries again. “You can’t let it end over some stupid miscommunication. There’s always a solution if you would only talk to each other. Have you even tried to contact him?”

Zayn’s face gets hot. “I can’t speak to him ever again, I’m too ashamed,” he says, shrinking into himself. “I said terrible things to him - unforgivable things. Every insecurity he has, I mocked him for it, and when I saw him hurting, I dug the knife in deeper.” 

The other two lads seem shocked by that outburst. Harry has a compassionate look in his eyes, stroking Zayn’s hair in a somewhat helpless gesture and Niall pulls nervously on the collar of his t-shirt while studying his dangling feet.

After a prolonged silence, Niall finds his voice. “We can’t work out how bad things are if you don’t tell us what was said. Maybe it was not as horrible as you remember? Liam strikes me as a sound guy. Surely his hang-ups aren’t that bad?”

“I’m not gonna talk to you about Liam’s issues.” Zayn’s tone leaves no room for discussion but Niall is not done fishing for information. 

“Do you ever think your devotion to confidentiality is a big part of your problem?”

“No, I don’t, Niall,” Zayn retorts. “I’m not gonna throw away my principles because my integrity is all I’ve left right now. I know I’ve failed Liam on a colossal scale, but I can’t and won’t betray his confidence further by blabbing to my mates.”

Harry pinches his bottom lip between his fingers before he gets up, ambles across to the fridge and removes three bottles of Stella. 

“You’re kidding right?” Niall throws his hands in the air. “After I’ve spent what feels like a lifetime sobering him up?”

Harry stops in his tracks, turns back and returns the bottles to the fridge door. Smiling at the lad on the counter, he nods. “Yeah, sorry...I guess we have to rely on plan B then. 

“ Which is?” Niall asks.

Zayn watches his friend’s movements closely, wondering what he is up to, as a satisfied grin spreads across Harry’s features.

“There was a massive sale on sweets at Sainsbury’s last week and I thought of Zaynie and picked up a whole box of gummy bears,” Harry explains.

Good old Harry. He really is a sweetheart.

“So, if you come with me, we can get some of those goodies and cheer ourselves up,” Harry addresses Niall, thumbing towards the door. They disappear into the next room where Zayn can hear them rummage through Harry’s sideboard, talking in hushed voices but he hasn’t got the energy to try and catch what they’re saying. Most likely, they’re hatching a new plan to help him with what they assume is a resolvable situation. 

The thing is, he doesn’t want any help because he’s done with the whole relationship stuff. There’s only so much emotional pain he can withstand. He needs to get his shit together, starting with constructing new defences around his heart and rewinding his life to before he’d met Liam. He’ll pick up some groceries on his way home before finishing the work on that manuscript that is long overdue and tomorrow, he’ll make an effort and actually attend some lectures, well, the important ones anyway. 

The whispering is still filtering through from the living room and all of a sudden, Zayn knows that he can’t stick around any longer. He pushes his chair back and bolts from the flat. He will just have to apologise to the two of them later. 

If he tries to concentrate fully on work and his studies, he might be able to harden himself against the onslaught of feelings hitting him every time he thinks about Liam - which is basically every minute of every day - but maybe the hollow ache in his chest will eventually subside. 

As he races down the stairs, he thinks he can hear his friends calling after him, but his mind is made up. Today is the start of the rest of his life, and it won’t involve Liam Payne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the massive wait. I am very grateful for those of you who are still reading. 
> 
> Thank you xx

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading x


End file.
